


Captain America: Midnight On the Firing Line

by Legume_Shadow



Series: Captain, Agent, Soldier, Spy (Series) [3]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Episode: s02e04 Smoke & Mirrors, F/M, Gen, Heavily Influenced by Babylon 5, Inspired by S2 E4 of Agent Carter, M/M, Spycraft, Superhero Thriller Spycraft (Hopefully), This Fic Is Not What You Think It Will Be, Three Letter Agencies Like Whoa: SSR; OSS; SOE; SIS, so much spycraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2020-07-11 19:16:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 147,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19933147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legume_Shadow/pseuds/Legume_Shadow
Summary: Out of the fields of chaos and death comes a moment of revelation, and a moment of transition.  It's midnight on the firing line, but the hour of the wolf hunts.  Its targets: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Peggy Carter.Note: This is technically a part of theIn the Line of Duty (Series)(Part 4.5), but can be a standalone as well.





	1. Midnight on the Firing Line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadow_Chaser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Chaser/gifts).



> First Publishing: July 2019, AO3  
> Disclaimer: All characters (except for the ones created by me) belong to their respective owners. No profit is being made from this work of fiction.
> 
> Theme Music: 'Convictions' by Ninja Tracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 1, Episode 1.

**Chapter 1: Midnight on the Firing Line**

_November 7 th, 1944, European Front..._

_Breathe—pause—heartbeat—fire._

Bucky pulled his eye away from the scope as soon as he confirmed that his target had collapsed in a sprawling heap – about five hundred feet away in front of where he had set up. Running targets were by far the most difficult for him to shoot. But thanks to the open courtyard three stories below where he was, and the fact that his target was running across a building bridge that connected one side of this facility to another, it had been a simple task of tracking and firing.

The man he had assassinated would have been among those mix of HYDRA officers and scientists being taken by the Commandos as prisoners. There was value to the information that they had, but this particular target had been assigned to him by Philips. The officer was of no use to the SSR, and though Bucky had briefly wondered why, he didn't ask for the reason.

The SSR commander ordered him to take the targets, and he took them out – no questions asked. It was a part of the agreement he had made with Philips nearly four months ago; to remain within the SSR, and within the Howling Commandos. It had been and still was the only way he could remain to keep his promise to Steve.

Bucky slung his sniper rifle across his back as he took up his holstered pistol, and got up from where he had been crouched. Snatching up the single casing that had been ejected, he hurried on his way back towards where he knew the other Commandos were. It was not that he didn't want to leave any evidence, but that should someone in the field – enemy or ally – come across and connect the dots, he wanted to add to their confusion as to who exactly had shot the officer.

The lefts, rights, and long hall traversals he took to retrace his steps, before taking the stairwell down a floor— “Help!”

The cry was so faint that Bucky thought he had imagined it. Over the sheer noise of what was happening outside, he would have missed it, had Zola not 'enhanced' him. The cry came again, with him catching it in between the ridiculous amount of explosions that was shaking the entire building – not to mention the buzz of gunfire filling the air.

He knew that it was not just the Commandos who were now fighting against HYDRA in this facility – the soldiers that they had found and freed earlier had finally gotten their hands on weapons. It was almost as chaotic as how the 107th had made their escape at Azzano. It also seemed that there were more soldiers that Steve and the others had missed in their hunt for the HYDRA officers and scientists in the facility.

Hurrying towards where he hoped was where the faint cries for help were coming from, he managed to catch the shouts a little louder – again, in between explosions. Finally, after turning a left and a right, he found that a previously locked, thick metal door had been partially wrenched open by the surrounding structure that had been damaged.

Bucky couldn't help but frown slightly. Blueprints stolen from another HYDRA facility had pointed to this area being a storage shed, not a prisoner holding pen. Yet, the cries for help – multiple ones – were coming from this area.

Holstering his sidearm, he tried to wedge himself as best as he could against the bent door. Pushing back with all of his might, he managed to get it open another few inches – enough for him to slip in. Dust and plaster from the ceiling shook down upon him as another set of explosions cascaded through the entire facility. It was only by the thin stream of light coming through the thin windows near the ceiling that he could see anything at all.

He only needed to take a few steps in before seeing makeshift cages lining down the hall. It looked almost exactly like the ones that the 107th and other forces had been kept in, except that there were no guards strolling on top. Several men were kept in each circular cell, and a few of their cries for help immediately turned into cheers upon seeing him.

“Stand back,” he said, unholstering his pistol and pointed it towards the lock of the first cell. Those that could and were able to, stood back – with some dragging their more weakened comrades back. Bucky fired at the lock, breaking it with one shot, and immediately moved onto the next cell.

There were five cells in all, with about three to four men in each. As the door to the final cell swung open, one of the men asked, “What unit you're from, friend?”

“Howling Commandos,” Bucky stated, as he follow the freed men back out, helping one of the soldiers who looked slightly unsteady on his feet become a little more steady. “Easy there,” he murmured to the bushy-haired man.

He glanced over for a moment, seeing a spark of determination in the man's eyes. “We'll be out of here in no time,” he reassured him, not wanting the clearly weakened man to overexert himself.

“T-than...” the man tried to say, but fell silent as it took all of his concentration and then some, to try to keep walking forward.

As soon as one of the other soldiers took the man from him, Bucky slipped forward, giving his pistol and fresh clip to the most able-bodied looking of the soldiers. He drew his sniper rifle out and held it at half-ready. It was not the most ideal of weapons he could use, but he needed someone else to wield the pistol to help him cover their retreat.

“Howling Commandos?” another prisoner questioned. “Never heard of you, but I'm sure glad that you Yanks finally joined the war effort.”

Bucky frowned slightly. It was not the time or place to ask, but if his assumption about the words were correct, these particular men must have been POWs since before the attack on Pearl Harbor happened. He knew that there had been a few sparsely populated units and individuals sent over to the European Theatre before the attack happened, but nothing on the scale of the effort mounted in 1943 and into Normandy a few months ago.

Fortunately, no more questions or comments were made by the men, as Bucky silently directed them with hand signals towards where he could hear the fighting going on. It was also fortunate that he managed to spot Morita before they got into the thick of the fighting in what used to be the front entrance of the facility.

The radioman sent forward that additional soldiers had been found. Jones and the others on the other side of the courtyard received the message and were in the midst of securing another transport when he, along with Morita, and the additional freed men arrived. It had been up to both him and Morita to usher the bewildered men through the intense firefight that the other Commandos were engaged in, against what was left of the HYDRA forces.

By the time Bucky leapt on the back of the second truck, grabbing onto the ceiling rail to make sure he didn't fall out, the last of the HYDRA soldiers were dead. As both trucks full of freed soldiers pulled away, Bucky saw Steve standing at the back of the other truck. Steve was staring out at the fading former HYDRA facility.

He managed to catch Steve's eyes and gave him a thumbs up and nod of his head. All men he had found were accounted for. He received a thumbs up in return. Satisfied, Bucky took one last look around the fog and woods that were rapidly swallowing up their escape, and turned to make his way forward.

Knocking loudly on the metal wall that separated the back from the cockpit, the slot between the two slid open. “We're good back here. ETA?” Bucky asked, though he had to shout his words in order to be heard over the cranking and clanking of the engine.

“Jones radioed the route. Direct to camp. Cap's orders,” Morita shouted back as Bucky caught a glimpse of Falsworth at the wheel turning to follow the other truck.

“Copy,” he answered, shutting the slot and made his way back to the back.

He knew that Steve would have not normally taken a direct route back to the field camp, but considering the state of the men they had found, most needed medical attention. They couldn't afford to take a more winding route to lose potential HYDRA pursuers.

Bucky sat down on right side of the truck, setting his rifle at the ready, as he briefly looked out into the fog and woods that passed them. Glancing back into the truck, he saw that the man that he had initially helped was sitting slightly opposite of him, leaning against the able-bodied prisoner he had given his pistol to.

“About twenty miles,” he shouted as he saw the man stir and look up at him, and attempted to give him a reassuring smile. “Hold on for me, okay? You're almost home.”

The nod he received in return was weak, but the determination in the former prisoner's eyes – and the others as well – was all that Bucky needed to know that these freed men were going to survive.

* * *

_A couple of hours later, SSR Field Headquarters..._

The camp was chaotic when the two trucks pulled in. Half of the 107th had been deployed here. It looked as if the simultaneous strike by various teams on the HYDRA outposts and main facility in this region had caused a lot of good and successful chaos. Deactivated weapons were being moved everywhere by some of Howard's personnel and 107th members. It also looked as if the primary facility had not been the only area where men had been kept by HYDRA.

Fortunately, with his shield and uniform, Steve knew that he garnered attention, as the truck he had been riding in halted. He jumped off and began helping the freed men out. He caught a glimpse of Bucky doing the same, as the rest of the Commandos clambered out of their respective truck cockpits and joined to help.

Catching the approach of Colonel Philips out of the corner of his eyes, he gave a nod to DumDum to take over for a moment as he stepped away. Peggy was approaching as well, and the line of freed men passed on either side of them. “Mission comple—” Steve began.

“Peggy?”

Even with the cacophony in the camp, Steve had picked up on the faint question. A heavily bearded and long-haired man among the soldiers that Bucky had found, stumbled out of line. Morita was closest to the man and managed to reach him, when Peggy gave a puzzled look towards the slight commotion.

“Peggy... it is you—”

“Michael?!”

Peggy's whisper of shock seemed to cut through the noise, as Steve saw her take a couple of tentative steps towards the man. A moment later, her hands flew up to her mouth, with an overwhelmed look taking over her expression. It quickly melted into a mixture of joy and relief as tears sprung into her eyes.

Steve reached forward and was about to close the distance, wondering who this man was, but didn't get a chance to. Peggy suddenly rushed and closed the distance to the man. She fiercely embraced him, as Steve heard her say, “You're alive! You're truly alive! Mother and Father... they'll be so glad. So glad!”

“Agent Carter?” Philips questioned a few moments later, breaking up the reunion. Peggy seemed to realize and remember where she was.

She let go of the man, and stepped back, as Morita stepped in for a moment to help steady to bearded man. Wiping tears from her eyes and trying to compose herself as best as possible, she turned back to the SSR commander, a hand still on the man's arm.

“I apologize for that, sir,” she began. “This is my brother, Michael. My family received notice that he had died over two years ago. It's... it's—”

“Say no more, Carter,” Philips surprisingly stated in an understanding tone. “Go see to your brother. Captain Rogers and I can begin the debrief without you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Peggy stated, as Steve could not help but smile widely. He was very happy for her.

However, as Peggy turned to help her brother and the others to the medical tent, Steve returned his attention to Philips saying, “Sir, I think Bucky should attend the debrief as well. He's the one who found Michael and the other soldiers elsewhere.”

“Definitely not in the blueprints we were given,” Bucky answered, nodding. “Sir,” Steve heard his best friend add in as an afterthought.

Fortunately, it seemed that with the somewhat frenetic chaos going on, Philips did not glare at the casualness of Bucky's adherence to the chain of command, as Steve had anticipated him to be. The SSR commander nodded, and gestured for the two of them to follow him back to the main planning tent. With DumDum's nod of reassurance that they got things handled here, Steve followed Philips, with Bucky walking by his side.

They reached the tent, and entered it. With the flap closed and tightened by the MPs standing guard outside, it was remarkably quiet. The sounds of the camp were still heard, but it was muted for the three of them standing around the main planning table.

Philips began the debrief with a request for the run down of all actions taken to achieve the objectives. Steve laid out the general details, though he supplemented in details about where the initial set of soldiers were found, and what Falsworth and Jones had collected from the science wing of the facility. Bucky occasionally made a comment about what he saw from his sniper's perch.

All of it had generally matched the reports and blueprints given to them by OSS field agents. The only exception were the men that Bucky had encountered on his way to the rendezvous point. As Bucky pointed out where he had found the men on the blueprints, Steve saw Philips frown slightly.

It was not a normal expression for their commander to show. In all the debriefs he had participated in, Philips usually kept his expression neutral, and commentary even more so. “Sir?” Steve spoke up when Bucky fell silent after stating the conditions that he had found the soldiers in.

“Did the men say anything unusual after you freed them, Barnes?”

“They asked what unit I was from,” Bucky began to answer, then paused for a moment.

“Bucky?” Steve questioned before Philips could. It was a little odd for his best friend to look slightly puzzled for a moment.

“One of the men stated that he's never heard of the Howling Commandos,” Bucky stated. “Normal. But then he said that it was about time us Yanks finally joined the war effort.”

“Was it Agent Carter's brother who said that?” Philips asked.

“No,” Bucky answered, shaking his head slightly. “A soldier with red-brown hair.”

Philips remained silent for a few long moments. Steve could have sworn that the frown on the SSR commander's face got slightly deeper, before Philips asked, “Have either of you ever heard of the SOE?

“SOE, sir?” Steve asked after he caught Bucky's glance over at him, shaking his head.

“Special Operations Executive. The closest equivalent you can get to them is if the SSR merged operations with the OSS and weren't pursuing HYDRA. They're the British version.”

“Then how come we've never heard of them or interacted with them until now?” Bucky asked. “Besides the obvious that they're covert, like us. Sir.”

“Major Falsworth has been heading up the interactions, whenever they request for it,” Philips answered. “It's rare though, since they're more concentrated in gathering intelligence across Europe than using propaganda like the OSS. It's also rare that any of their agents encounter HYDRA forces. They're concentrated mainly in most of the major cities and large towns.”

Steve caught Bucky's nod of acceptance at the answer, however vague it was, and nodded as well. He didn't want to inquire more deeply about the SOE other than what was presented. They both knew that digging further into any intelligence organization was bound to produce more headaches. Steve's experience with the OSS interactions had taught him at least that much.

“In March 1942, the SSR received word that Tønsberg, a small village in Norway, had been invaded and completely demolished by the Red Skull,” Philips began. “The SOE had an agent in the region, and said agent requested the deployment of units, not knowing what the Red Skull or HYDRA were. Both the agent and SOE thought it was a potential precursor beachhead being established for an invasion into Scotland.”

Philips paused for a moment before saying, “The agent was Michael Carter, and the two units that were deployed were two platoon of men attached to the SOE. They were last heard from in April 1942. Numerous amounts of shell casings, and their identification tags were found at the beachhead they had tried to establish. No traces of their bodies were found. They were all declared dead.”

“Any burn marks from HYDRA weaponry at the site?” Steve asked.

He remembered that day when he, along with Peggy and Bucky had been sitting at the small campfire, trading stories about their families. Peggy had introduced her tradition to the two of them. Steve remembered learning that she had picked up on the tradition shortly after receiving news that her brother had been killed-in-action. To hear more details from Philips...

“First known and recorded usage of the blue-bolt weapons were when the 107th had been captured, Rogers,” the SSR commander answered. “No burn marks. Only shell casings on both sides of what looked like an overwhelming firefight that HYDRA had given that team.”

“Jesus,” Steve heard Bucky softly curse. Steve ignored it, though he knew that Bucky knew that he didn't like it whenever Bucky used the Lord's name in vain. However, before he could ask another question, Bucky asked, “You think they've all been turned, sir?”

“Bucky—” Steve began, annoyed that his best friend could think that way about allied forces that had been captured by HYDRA. It seemed incredibly hypocritical that Bucky doubted the integrity of the soldiers, especially when Bucky had been one himself. It was also a little baffling to him that Bucky would think that of Peggy's brother – considering that Steve now somewhat understood that Peggy and Bucky didn't actually dislike each other.

“What, Steve?” Bucky asked, irritated. “They were found—”

“Gentlemen,” Philips interrupted in a gruff tone. Bucky fell silent as Philips focused his attention on Steve. “Go fetch Carter, Captain. She needs to be here for the rest of the debrief.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve stated, tucking his argument back into the depths of his thoughts. He brushed past Bucky without another word or glance over at him.

~~~

Bucky waited exactly ten seconds after the tent flap was secured by the MPs with Steve departure. “It's done,” he bluntly stated to Philips.

“Any complications besides the ones headed into medical?” the SSR commander asked.

“No, sir,” he answered, shaking his head slightly.

From the tone of Philips' question, he knew that the man was a little irritated that he had stated the obvious assumption about the soldiers right then and there. However, Bucky didn't care what either Steve or Philips thought of him at the moment. Every single time HYDRA deviated from their grandiose displays of power – especially with their blue-bolted weapons – something terrible always followed it.

Twice now, the SSR had been infiltrated and almost destroyed from the inside-out by HYDRA agents masquerading as either personnel or found former prisoners. HYDRA was as loud as the big brass bands that played in the dance halls of New York, and they weren't afraid to hide it. It was the subtle steps – the 'sneaking' around that the SSR always seemed to be caught off guard against. To find men in an area unmarked by OSS intelligence raised obvious suspicion.

“The protocol for this is to send each and every prisoner you found through the psychological tests developed jointly by the SOE, OSS, and SSR,” Philips stated.

“But you're taking about after that, right, sir?” he asked.

Philips didn't answer affirmative, but instead, said, “Agent Carter was a former SOE agent. She followed her brother's footsteps and joined the organization shortly after he was declared dead. Her former superior told me that she had had the offer in her hands since the end of January 1941, but hadn't accepted it due to personal reasons. I personally recruited her into the SSR because of her skills. She's sharp, and she'll know some of what is happening. Your job, Sergeant, is to make sure you're not detected at all – that she doesn't suspect what you are doing.”

“Vetting her brother?” Bucky asked, tucking his surprise at the information that Philips had revealed about Peggy into the back of his thoughts. It was obvious from where the conversation was going, that it was headed in that direction.

“By any means necessary, Barnes,” Philips ordered, giving him a hard look.

It was in that moment that Bucky realized something. Considering the frankness that their debriefs had become, he knew that he was well within his rights for what he did for Philips and the SSR to ask his question.

“You had Carter vet me from the moment I returned with the captured 107th at Azzano, didn't you, sir?”

“Is that a problem, Sergeant?”

“No, sir,” he answered.

He did not ask whether or not Peggy was still reporting to Philips about whatever the SSR commander wanted to know about him. It was quite obvious from the fact that he now served in this particular capacity, and secretly reported directly to Philips for assassination target orders that the SSR commander trusted him.

“Guess I'm volunteering to stay behind as relay again,” he murmured to himself.

A few moments later, there was the shuffling of feet near the entrance of the tent. Steve and Peggy entered the tent, with the MPs outside closing it tightly after them. There was a calm, but happier look in Peggy's eyes. Even the little storm cloud hanging over Steve when he had left the tent a few minutes before, seemed to have diminished significantly.

“Agent Carter. How are they?”

“Dr. Wynn says that most of the men are malnourished, but will recover with time and perhaps some rest in the hospital,” Peggy answered.

“We'll hold here for a few days,” Philips declared, bringing the map of the region to the forefront on the planning table. “Given what all of the teams found, and then some more left behind, it will take us those few days to process, bring back everything that we can find, and then destroy the facilities.”

Philips looked up, saying, “Captain Rogers, I want you to brief two teams to go back to the main facility. They'll be searching for any other weapons, and additional POWs in the facility.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve nodded. “We'll be good to go in an hour—”

“Negative on that, Captain,” Philips interrupted. “The you and the Commandos will be remaining in camp for the time being. The men that Sergeant Barnes found will be subjected to a battery of psychological tests to determine their trustworthiness. I need the Commandos to be ready for anything that might happen.”

“But, sir—” Steve protested as Bucky caught his aghast look over at him. The storm cloud hanging over Steve seemed to have gotten darker.

“The joint exam developed by all three organizations?” Peggy surprisingly interrupted. There was a restrained tone in her voice, but she did not look over at Steve when Bucky saw him turn his attention to her.

“Yes,” Philips answered, ignoring Steve's protest.

Bucky knew that there was nothing he could say at the moment to calm Steve down – not when questioning the integrity of soldiers, especially former prisoners-of-war greatly rubbed Steve wrong. He knew that his best friend wanted to continue to believe the best in every person, but the SSR was first and foremost an intelligence agency.

They needed to question and verify everything – especially since it looked as if they were making HYDRA more and more desperate with each destruction of a facility or outpost. Bucky just hoped that everything that Philips was doing – and what he had been ordered to secretly carry out – was for naught.

He too, wanted to continue to believe in Steve, because Bucky knew that if Steve's light was ever extinguished, he would drown in darkness.

* * *

The questioning of the soldiers that had been found in an unexpected area within the HYDRA facility commenced over the next few days. Though Steve was not happy about it, he understood why it had to be done. Peggy didn't need to tell him that, and neither did Bucky. He knew the two, along with Philips and others were thinking of the various close calls that the SSR had since they began to fight back against HYDRA in earnest.

Only a few were processed each day – and only when the medical officer cleared them fit for transport elsewhere with the slow and steady trickling of men leaving the field camp. It was only after the majority of the men were gone, that Philips eased the Commandos' restriction to be present in camp. It allowed two or three of the Commandos to go on sorties with other members of the 107th to recover HYDRA technology from the various cleared facilities in the area.

Thankfully, Steve was never physically in the same partitioned area whenever the questioning took place. Only Peggy, who administered the test, and Howard, who operated the polygraph were physically present. A strange cloth-and-film like curtain had been drawn across the other end of the tent, giving the illusion that the tent was smaller on the inside than it looked.

Steve and Philips stood on the other side, watching the questioning as if it were a one-way window. The men on the other side could not see either of them at all. The Commandos had been scattered throughout the area – close enough for Steve to shout orders if the worse should happen.

Nothing had happened thus far.

Peggy's brother was the last of the soldiers that Bucky had found, to go through questioning. It was only because he had also been the weakest of men found – and thus took the longest to recover. The doctor was allowed to inform the recovering men that their compatriots were being sent home as they got better – which was true, and allowed the men to be more relaxed and at ease.

Now though, Steve had his arms folded across his chest as he watched Howard take a seat and turn the polygraph on. Howard had somehow managed to convert small packs that contained the glowing blue energy that powered the HYDRA weapons into a portable electricity generator of sorts.

Unfortunately, such conversion drained the packs quite fast, emptying them within a half-hour. Attempts to convert the larger packs failed, as the SSR engineers were still baffled as to how HYDRA's power sources for their weapons truly worked.

Steve didn't blame them at all for not knowing almost nothing about HYDRA's weapons or power sources, other than the measure of explosive content within. He surmised that it would take years to begin to understand what Zola and the other HYDRA engineers and scientists did – and how they came about doing it.

At the present, as Peggy began her questioning, Steve could not detect a quaver in her tone. There was a steely professionalism about her, and it seemed that it was mirrored in her brother. It was obvious to any observer that they both knew what was going on – the questioning and confirmation of answers via polygraph. They both wanted Michael himself to be clean and free of any doubt.

The questioning took slightly less than a half-hour to complete. It was about average for the amount. As soon as Peggy told her brother to wait in the room, Steve saw Philips step away from where he had been observing through the one-way curtain. Steve remained where he was, carefully watching Michael.

Most of the soldiers fidgeted and looked around while Peggy, Howard, and Philips were in discussion about the results from the answers and polygraph produced. It was a natural reaction that more than a few decided to get up and have a look at the polygraph and its strange power source. It was clear that the soldiers had never heard of HYDRA, or seen the war that the SSR had been waging against them for nearly two years.

Instead of doing either of those two things, Steve saw Michael glance down at his hands before rubbing the underside of his right wrist and elbow bend with his left hand. It had been where the polygraph's straps had been wrapped around.

Michael then gruffly rolled his sleeve down. It was difficult to see with the lighting conditions and the cloth-and-film curtain, but Steve thought he caught more than a few faint but tiny needle marks on both areas.

He frowned.

Those marks looked familiar. Steve knew that he had almost indiscernible marks from the needles that Dr. Erskine's serum delivery mechanism biting into him. They were mostly concentrated on the triceps of his arms, and were pretty much invisible on the surface skin of his pectoral muscles.

However, Bucky had visible needle scar marks on the inside bend of his elbows. Those had been courtesy of Zola and the many horrendous experimentation that the mad scientist had done to his best friend.

Steve had only seen them once.

Bucky had been incredibly careful that no one saw the marks after he had caught him, Steve, staring at the marks. Steve hadn't meant to stare, but just seeing those marks had brought a deep-seated, cold and furious anger to the forefront. He had wanted to go back out into the field right then and there, and find Zola to make the scientist pay.

Now though, to see Michael bearing similar marks; Steve wondered if it was because HYDRA knew that Peggy's brother was an intelligence agent, and not a soldier, that they had tortured him via injection. Steve knew that there were certain substances out there that were injected into the bloodstream to cause hallucinations, pain, and other unpleasant sensations.

The medical updates that Philips received and briefed him on stated that there was no evidence of any strange substances or otherwise within any of the men's blood. The doctor had even compared it to blood samples that he had gotten from both him and Bucky, and found nothing out of the ordinary.

Steve felt sorry for Peggy's brother—

“Give him the good news, Carter,” Philip's declaration shook Steve out of his observations and musings.

He turned, a smile blooming on his face as he saw his relief reflected ten-fold in Peggy's happy expression. She still maintained her composure though and gave a curt nod, saying, “Yes, sir.”

“Need anything else, Colonel?” Howard asked, as Steve silently caught Philips' glance over at him, allowing him to accompany Peggy to give Michael the good news.

As Philips and Howard's voices faded away, they approached the other side of the partitioned tent and entered it. As soon as Michael saw their relaxed stances and expression, Steve saw a wide, relieved smile break out onto his face.

“Welcome home, Michael,” Peggy said, closing the distance and fiercely embraced her brother, while Steve hung back.

“Not England, but I'll take it,” Michael answered. “It's good to be free and home.”

The two stepped back a few moments later, and Steve took the opportunity to approach, holding out a hand. “We haven't been properly introduced yet. Captain Steve Rogers, US Army,” he introduced himself. “It's good to see that you're doing better, Agent Carter.”

“Captain America of the Howling Commandos himself,” Michael answered, shaking his hand for a brief moment. “Folks in and around the medical tent won't stop talking about you. All good things, I promise. But yeah, thanks for the rescue you and your Commandos pulled off, Captain Rogers.”

“Steve,” Steve insisted. “Peggy's told me a few things about you. Mainly how you inspired her to join this organization.”

“Then call me Michael,” Peggy's brother stated as the three of them exited the tent and into the camp.

It wasn't quite chaotic, but there were a lot of personnel and 107th members running about. Most of them were helping the engineers and logistic personnel load up what was left of found HYDRA weapons, and shipping out the last of the captured prisoners.

It was clear that the camp was going break soon, which meant that most of them were going to head back to England soon. Some of the 107th would remain here to hold the line until Allied forces could send men here to relieve them.

“So where about the States are you from, Steve?” Michael asked.

“New York City,” he answered. “Born and raised—”

Steve didn't get to finish as the loud revs of a jeep engine and squeal of tyres against brakes pierced through the noise of the camp. Steve was already drifting towards the direction, seeing that Bucky and the small team he had led to go blow up one of the facilities, were in the jeep. Bucky, Jones, and two men of the 107th had not been due to return until the afternoon.

“Medic!” Bucky shouted.

Steve's blood turned to ice as Bucky turned slightly and curtly ordered, “Jones, go!”

He saw Jones jump out of the driver's seat and run towards the planning tent – where he had spotted Philips entering a few minutes ago. Bucky bellowed for a medic again before turning to reassure the injured soldier that they were at camp.

As Steve got closer to the jeep, he saw that the team was covered in filth and blood. There was also the remains of a mangled, shot-through radio pack lying next to the injured Corporal Garcia. The injured man was currently being hauled off the jeep by both Bucky and Private Keller, right leg looking torn and bleeding. It had been hastily bandaged.

As much as Steve wanted to help, he knew not the get in the way. Too many hands and too many people crowding was not going to do the injured soldier any favors. He stepped back as he saw the doctor and two medics running towards the jeep, stretcher and plasma bottle in their hands.

He watched as the medics helped Bucky and Keller maneuver Garcia onto the stretcher. The doctor immediately began stabilizing and binding Garcia in other areas, before nodding for the medics to carry the severely injured man away. As soon as the medics and doctor were clear of the immediate area, Steve hurried over.

“Bucky, what happened?” he demanded, drawing Bucky's attention away from the dwindling forms of the injured man and medical personnel.

Though Bucky was a part of the Commandos, he had been a member of the 107th – had trained with the men before they had all been deployed to Italy. Steve knew that the two men that Bucky had picked for the facility demolition team were from the platoon Bucky formerly commanded. Jones was sent as the demo expert – to make sure that the main facility was completely destroyed. There had been no reports of HYDRA sightings in the area within the past few days—

“Fucking Krauts,” Bucky spat out. Steve saw him scrub his face and hair with his bloodied hands, not caring that he was just smearing blood and dirt further around. “Panzer corps steam rolled into the area right when we blew the place up—”

“Carter!” Philips' demanding tone silenced Bucky for a moment as both he and Steve turned towards the SSR commander. Jones was not with the man, though Steve thought he caught a glimpse of the demolitions expert hurrying off elsewhere in the camp – most likely under some orders from Philips.

“Yes, sir?” Peggy answered, having arrived and stood next to Steve a few moments after Steve had initially asked Bucky what had happened. Standing slightly behind her was her brother, looking concerned.

“A Panzer corps is on their way here, most likely retreating from the Allied advance from the northwest. Probably hoped that HYDRA facilities they encountered would give them shelter. We're going to hold the line a half-mile north of here. How long do you need to evacuate all non-essential personnel, including Stark and his team?” Philips asked.

“As much time as you can give me, sir,” Peggy stated, “and if you're willing to let me torch everything that's left.”

“Do so,” Philips answered.

“Yes, sir,” she said, nodding. Steve caught her glance up at him for a brief moment, and silently nodded to her in reassurance.

Considering the swiftness and ruthlessness of the many Panzer corps that roamed Europe, he was glad that Peggy had not asked to remain on the front lines. With most of the 107th already on their way back to England or elsewhere in Europe, what they had left here was essentially a skeleton crew – designed for guerrilla warfare, not a straight-out assault.

No one had anticipated that the Krauts would have been pushed this far back against another Allied line. Steve was momentarily reminded of a parable of a cornered animal with his back against a wall. The enemy barreling down towards them was going to be extremely dangerous – probably even more so than what HYDRA forces they had all faced.

Peggy left a moment later, curt orders already issuing from her lips towards personnel. Surprisingly, Michael stayed, but Steve's thoughts were already on other things – namely utilizing the thick soup of fog that was settling into the forest surrounding the camp.

“Sir,” he spoke up. “Bucky and I will take the long way around – ambush them from behind.”

“Just the two of you?” Michael asked, incredulous.

“Speed and stealth,” Bucky answered before focusing his attention on Philips. “Stark's got mines – I saw them before we left.”

Steve knew that he should have asked Bucky if he wanted to accompany him on the mission to destroy the lines from the back side. But considering the anger he had seen buried within Bucky's eyes and the stance he adopted during the short briefing, he knew that a verbal confirmation had not been needed.

A soldier under Bucky's command had been injured; Steve knew how he felt. Bucky was willing to do whatever necessary to stop the German advance. Steve needed to focus Bucky's anger on something productive, lest that anger consume and degenerate into pure and utter destruction with little care.

For all of his own hotheadedness in charging into a fray, Steve knew Bucky was worse when he couldn't control his temper. That had happened to Bucky more than a few times when they had been fighting bullies in Brooklyn. Steve always had to be the one to calm down quickly to get Bucky to calm down.

“Go,” Philips agreed. “We'll keep them occupied here.”

~~~

There was little time to waste, as the group broke up shortly after Philips confirmed their orders. Both Bucky and Steve hurried and entered the enormous tent where Howard kept most of the modified conventional weapons. The tent that had held all of the found HYDRA weapons from the facilities had already been torn down. What little was left of the haul that had not been shipped out or disassembled, was being taken by the 107th for usage.

Bucky wanted to take at least a HYDRA-made rifle or even a pistol, but he didn't. The men holding the line at the camp needed far more than he did. It was as he had stated to Peggy's brother: speed and stealth. HYDRA's weapons were anything but stealthy.

“Mines, mines, mines—here!” Bucky heard Steve mutter then shout with success as the clanking of the tin trunk being thrown open was drowned out by the cacophony of noise outside.

Bucky made his way over to the trunk, snatching up clips for his rifle and shoving them into the various compartments on his waist belt. The rustle of the tent flap opening and closing was briefly heard in a moment of silence from the sounds outside.

“Let me help,” came the unexpected plea from Peggy's brother.

Bucky paused in helping Steve fill two knapsacks of five mines each, as he saw Steve look up, also stopping. “You should be evacuating with the others, Michael,” he heard Steve say.

He briefly glanced back and forth between Steve and Peggy's brother, wondering when Steve had become friendly enough with him to be on a first name basis. Considering that Michael had been allowed to even enter this tent without any guards accompanying him, Bucky could only assume that Peggy's brother had passed the psychological exam.

Philips orders to him were still in effect though. But he had not expected it to begin in this fashion; especially not in the middle of an impending attack. “We could use a scout, Steve,” he stated, flicking his eyes over towards his best friend.

He hated mixing deception, his secret orders, and the necessity of actually saying what he was saying, to Steve, but there was no shying away from it. With the fog rolling in, they _needed_ someone to keep an eye on the line and feed them information while the two of them wreaked havoc.

“Stark's engineers have been experimenting with smaller radios,” he followed up, gently putting down his knapsack and going over to a certain area within the tent.

He knew that he had to remember to thank David after all of this, for showing him the experimental short-range, micro radio that he had been working on. David Brewster truly was one of Howard's most brilliant engineers on the team. Bucky knew that his friend did not get enough credit for all the numerous times his gadgetry or modifications to the Commandos' weapons saved their lives. If the radios worked, he wondered if it was possible to put in a commendation for David.

Taking the small box out, he opened it and showed the contents to both Steve and Peggy's brother, saying, “Short-range radios. Distance three to five hundred yards.”

Steve picked up the small thing that was supposed to hook around one of his ears. No mouth piece had been attached yet, as Bucky knew that David was still working on adapting what pilots used in their communications equipment, for the feedback from the earpiece.

“Speaker on the end here—” he held up the piece that looked like a miniaturized version of the radio equipment that the Commandos used to monitor signals and radio back to headquarters. Peggy's brother took it from him, marveling at the object.

“That's the radio,” Bucky continued. “Hasn't been wired up for two-way communications yet, but I've heard the preliminary one-way tests were successful.”

He didn't dare mention that he had been the one on the radio end, guiding his two friends, Emily Hattersfield and David, in and around London. The two had been the ones wearing the earpieces, while he had maneuvered them to a specific area within the city. That had been during one of the brief times of a twelve-hour leave that the Commandos had been ordered to stay within the city.

Steve, and certainly Peggy's brother didn't need to know that. It would invite more questions than he wanted to answer, since that exercise had also been considered 'training' for the two in their intelligence-gathering duties as well. It had involved Peggy being the end 'target' for the exercise. Bucky knew that Peggy did not tell Steve much about her other Intelligence Officer duties other than what the Commandos knew – code breaker, translator, and analyst.

Steve was silent for a few moments, before taking the earpiece and hooking it over his ear before putting his cowled helmet back on. Bucky took the other piece and did the same, though he didn't bother with finding a helmet.

“First sign of trouble or shooting coming your way, Michael, you get out of harm's way,” Steve stated, giving Peggy's brother a hard look. “Understood?”

“Will do,” Peggy's brother answered.

Bucky turned and went over to grab the specialized binoculars. He handed it over, saying, “Not your typical binoculars, Carter. Flip the dial three times on the left side for thermal overlay.”

Peggy's brother whistled in surprise as he gingerly took the binoculars, before saying, “Michael. Call me Michael, please.”

“Guess I should've introduced myself before all of this then,” Bucky answered, shrugging slightly as it was well past the lateness for introductions. “Barnes. James Barnes. Friends call me Bucky.”

“Let's get you armed up as well,” Steve said, as they resumed loading out.

Steve directed Michael towards the unmodified rifles in another corner, as Bucky finished packing the knapsacks. It wasn't that they were loading out Michael with less powerful armaments – it was because Michael had no experience using any of Howard or the engineer team's modified armaments that they didn't want to risk anything.

The three of them left the tent in short order. The jeep that he and the small demolition team had drove into camp, had already been taken for other usage. They commandeered two motorcycles, with Steve taking one that was modified by someone on Howard's team. Bucky took a normal, unmodified one, knowing that Michael may need to use it later.

“Grab on and hang on tight,” he stated as he gestured for Michael to ride double with him.

Both knapsacks full of mines were attached to Steve's motorcycle. If it was necessary on approach to the incoming Panzer line, it was going to be possible for Steve to ditch the modified motorcycle. There was enough explosive force contained within the mines and modified motorcycle to cause a rather large crater to form.

“I don't wanna have to tell your sister that you fell off, because I didn't tell you to grab on tight. She'd have my head on a platter,” he muttered, as he felt the weight of the motorcycle shift and hands scrabbling for purchase on his uniform.

“Silver platter, more like it,” he heard the quipped remark from Michael just as he started up the motorcycle.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, along with the deep-seated anger he held for the damn assholes who had ambushed him and the team, Bucky couldn't help but find that comment hilarious. He snorted in laughter, shaking his head slightly before following Steve out of the camp.

The forest was dense, but not dense enough to stop the Panzers from rolling their way through. It was clear from the noise that Bucky heard over the roar of the motorcycles that the Panzers were not being impeded too much.

They arced around the right, before the sounds of the forest swallowed them again. There was now only the faint sounds of the Panzers trudging forward, and motorcycle noise filling the air. A few more minutes later, Bucky followed Steve in an arc that would take them towards hopefully the back of the line. Neither he, nor Jones, or Keller had seen the extent of the mechanized corps. Bucky hoped that they got lucky in finding the back end of the line.

More minutes passed, and it was only the booming sounds, followed by the whine and crank of engines becoming louder that Bucky knew they had rolled the guess correctly. Steve immediately peeled off before they could get any closer, and Bucky followed him.

They stopped the motorcycles at the base of a tall tree that had a lot of branches. “Think you can climb all the way up there, Michael?” Steve asked, as Bucky caught the knapsack of mines being tossed to him. Steve had tucked his knapsack under the shield still hooked onto his back.

He glanced back to see Peggy’s brother looking up the tree with furrowed eyebrows, before saying, “Yeah. No problem. Just like the old tree house at home.”

Without another word to the two of them, Michael then reached up towards the nearest branch and began climbing. The booming sounds, along with the noise of gunfire, shouts in German and English, and of HYDRA weapons being discharged were slowly becoming louder as the minutes passed. Still, neither he or Steve moved until they got verbal confirmation through the earpieces that Michael was situated and ready.

“This is Mother Goose,” Michael's voice came over Bucky's earpiece sounding as if he were speaking through a tin can. “I see both of you through thermal.”

Bucky nodded at Steve, as he received the same nod in return, before Steve held up a thumbs up towards where Michael was perched. Without another word to each other, both he and Steve took off, headed towards the noise.

It was almost impossible to hear Michael through the sheer amount of noise being generated by the Panzers crawling through the woods themselves. Nevertheless, because there was a strange quality to the voice over the radio, it made it easier for Bucky to identify and follow.

As he split from Steve and started to stealthily weave his way through the trees, he listened to what Michael saying. If there was any threat to Steve at the moment, now would be the best time for any enemy to get rid of an icon for the Allied forces.

Not that Bucky was going to let Michael do so under any circumstances, but leading both of them through an active enemy engagement was a perfect ambush. There were so many things that could go wrong, and it had only been the three of them in that tent. Michael would survive to tell—

_Shut it, Barnes._

He blinked once; the heart-stopping thoughts that had briefly gripped him slipping away. For the sake of Steve and Peggy, he wanted to believe in Michael's innocence – not Philips' suspicions.

Bucky slipped from tree to tree, approaching the first of the tanks that was rolling by him. He could hear the shouts of several enemy soldiers around the tank. Michael was busy guiding Steve through another knot, briefly leaving him, Bucky, alone with this tank and its soldiers.

Taking out the first mine, he armed it and sprinted as quietly as he could across the fog. Tossing the mine, it landed a few yards in front of the tank, ready for the barest hint of pressure from the treads rolling over it to explode. None of the soldiers saw him as he slipped back into the fog and behind another thick tree, bullets from both HYDRA and conventional weapons whizzing by.

Arming another one, as he caught a brief glimpse of Steve tossing a mine, before slipping back out to toss the second mine. Swiftly arming another one, he sprinted across a line, sliding into the dirt as gunfire peppered the air around him.

Plunking the third mine down, he heard Michael's orders to toss one near the front. He did so, as he armed and tossed the fourth one near the front of the advancing line.

He had to get out of the line of fire – and of the mines before the first tank would roll through either his or Steve's mines. Arming his final one, he slipped back behind a tree and heard Michael point out again to him as to where to toss the mine. At Michael's command, he ducked out, ran the fifteen feet diagonally to the right and laid down his final mine.

“Tree line and boulder at both of your ninety-right! Go!” Michael's tinny shout through the short-range radio was clear across the cacophony of noise.

He sprinted as fast as he could past the enemy soldiers, discarding all pretenses of stealth. As he and Steve ran by them, they caught their attention, but it wasn't for long. Both he and Steve barely got to the boulder at the edge of the treeline when the first of the mines exploded.

It was chaos after that, as Bucky couldn't even hear anything except for sheer ringing within his ears. The entire forest was lit on fire as balls of flames and smoke poured all over the area. Pressure wave after pressure wave slammed into the boulder and trees, violently rattling the earth. Super-heated flecks of dirt, wood, and metal shards rained down.

For some odd reason, Bucky was reminded of that time when he and Steve had been incredibly reckless and lit an entire sand pit of fireworks on the beach. A half-awed, half-amused smile worked its way up as he stared at the destruction being rendered to just where he and Steve had taken shelter. He dared not peek out from behind the boulder at all.

He didn't know exactly how many minutes had passed, but it was only after the clumps of dirt, broken and torn pine branches began to settle that he finally regained his senses. It was Steve hitting him on the chest with the back of his hand that caused him to look over at his best friend. His best friend was wearing a similar expression on his face that Bucky knew he still had – awe at what exactly they had done.

Steve said something, and the ringing in Bucky's ears was still too much for him to hear anything really. “I can't hear you!” he shouted – or at least he thought he did. He couldn't even hear himself saying the words.

“I think they've stopped firing,” Steve said again, this time a little more slowly so that Bucky could follow the words by reading his lips.

Instead of wasting his breath trying to say words back that, he silently gestured for the two of them to go check. At Steve's nod of readiness, both of them turned and peered out of boulder – rifle at the ready for Bucky's case, and Steve with his shield up.

There was almost nothing left of the enemy forces.

Craters of blackened dirt, shards of trees that were left in the periphery of the mines, and a few pockets of stuff that still burned, decorated the area. Even the fog had been completely burned away, revealing the line that the SSR had set up about a half-mile away. The only signs that someone attacked them were the ones who had been at the front of the advancing line.

As both he and Steve cautiously and carefully made their way down from their hiding spot, they saw Michael approaching from where he had taken shelter. Thankfully, Peggy's brother had not remained on the perch he had been at, and found some place else to hide.

Noise was slowly returning to him, as he and Steve circled the epicenter of the destruction once. Bucky could see no enemy soldier or mechanized infantry within the vicinity, and it seemed that Steve could not either. Slowly, Bucky dropped his rifle from being at the ready.

“Good job, Michael,” he heard Steve say, as he turned back around to see Steve slapping Michael quite heartily on the back. To Steve's left, those who had manned the defensive line were approaching as well.

“Thanks. You two as well,” Michael stated, though he gave both of them a sheepish look as he scratched the back of his head. “I sent your motorcycle into the fray as well, Steve. It looked like it was packed with explosives. Hope you don't mind.”

“Nope,” Steve answered, grinning faintly.

“Captain Rogers!” the faint voice of Philips calling out, briefly diverted Steve's attention.

Bucky took the opportunity to extend his own thanks towards the man, glad that the brief well of pure doubt about Peggy's brother had not been fulfilled. “Thanks for guiding both of us, Michael.”

“Yeah,” Michael answered, as Bucky extended his hand for him to shake – to which Michael reciprocated the action. “Sorry about not guiding you too much, Bucky. I didn't realize that you'd be as quick as Steve here.”

“Told you. Speed and stealth,” he answered, seeing the brief light of curiosity within Michael's eyes. Yet, the man was much too polite to inquire about the unstated implications of there being two super-soldiers, instead of the one that everyone knew – Steve 'Captain America' Rogers.

As Bucky let go of Michael's hand, he couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be a slightly odd tension within Michael's grip that did not match the happiness he saw in his eyes. He knew that he could have easily attributed it to the jolt that they had all received with the exploding mines. Yet, as the two of them, and Steve turned their attention to the approaching 107th and SSR personnel, Bucky thought otherwise.

He thought he had seen the tiniest of a shadow of _something_ in Michael's eyes.

~*~*~*~


	2. Survivors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 1, Episode 11.

**Chapter 2: Survivors**

_November 14 th, 1944, London..._

“A pub?”

“Well, Lorraine did say that the Foreign Office representative is delayed for two hours,” Falsworth murmured loud enough for everyone within his vicinity to hear. “Philips has not given us any orders until then. I for one, wish not to remain here within the stuffy confines of this base until he arrives.”

“But, a _pub_?” Bucky heard Peggy's brother question again, sounding incredulous.

In the aftermath of the action at the SSR field camp, Philips had all of them sweep a perimeter and ensure that reinforcements were on their way before recalling everyone back to London. The 107th and Commandos had remained behind to secure the area and had arrived back at SSR headquarters only a few hours before.

In the interim, Bucky had heard that all soldiers he had found in that unusual area at the HYDRA facility had gone through processing. Raising people who had been declared dead was difficult, judging by the numerous amounts of paperwork he had seen flying around the SSR. Most of them contained the names of the soldiers that he had found.

Of particular interest was Britain's Foreign Office, who wanted to debrief Michael, the Commandos, and the SSR on the action they faced. It was only because of the partial disclosure agreement between the SSR and Foreign Office, that Philips had agreed to the debrief being held here. However, there had been some recent rumors that the Foreign Office also held enough of the SSR's purse strings, for them to demand full disclosure.

Now though, it seemed that whomever the Foreign Office had sent, was delayed.

“Yeah, come on,” DumDum said, as Bucky saw him sling an arm around Michael, and hefting him out of the seat with the motion. “Pegs is one of us, so we need to make sure you're good with that. Brotherly duty and all that.”

“Pardon?”

“We adopted her into the Commandos, Carter,” Bucky jumped in, cockily grinning at Michael, knowing that that particular smile irritated Peggy a lot. He wondered if it would have the same effect on her brother. “She's one of us, and we need to make sure that her big brother is okay with her being surrounded by seven unmarried—”

“Six—” Falsworth corrected.

“All right. Six, unmarried men, and one who is about to be chained to holy matrimony by the base of his—” Bucky amended in a dry tone, before being interrupted.

“Damn you, Barnes. You're terrible,” he barely heard Falsworth's mutter over the laughter from the other commandos. Even Peggy was trying to hide her smile under a facade of annoyance at his words.

“Bucky, there's a lady here,” Steve admonished, though Bucky could not hear the sting in his tone.

“Chained as Major Falsworth might be, at least he's still free to roam around Europe, blasting the bases of the chains off of HYDRA,” Peggy stated in a slightly sharp, but jesting tone.

Abrupt silence fell among the Commandos as they stopped at the top of the stairs, just before the doors opened to the main floor of the building the SSR had made their headquarters under. All eyes were on Michael, though a few had strayed back and forth between the two Carter siblings.

Even Steve was staring at Michael – no one knew how Peggy's brother would react to such coarseness from a woman, much less Peggy. The Commandos were used to her slinging stinging insults, creative innuendos, and trading barbs with them in a joking manner. They loved her for her frankness.

Not only did she seem to bring the best out of Steve whenever she was around, Steve seemed much happier with her around. Every one of the Commandos could see that Peggy was who Steve was fighting for; his guiding light in his horrendous war. It was one of the many reasons why Bucky cared about her – as if she was one of his sisters.

“What?” Michael asked, looking slightly bewildered. “Why are you all looking at me so strangely? I taught her to say that...minus the HYDRA bits.”

“All right, all right!” Jones declared, breaking the oddly tension-filled silence with a cheerful crow. “We definitely need to get you Carter sibs drunk like skunks!”

“The last time we all got drunk, I still managed to drink both you and Morita under the table,” Peggy pointed out as they resumed their exit.

They were slightly rowdy, turning some heads in bewilderment as they made their way out of the main floor. Yet, they were happy that it seemed Michael was not uptight about Peggy not behaving like a prim and proper woman.

“We're not getting drunk,” Steve stated, shaking his head slightly in exasperation. “Two hours.”

“I agree,” Falsworth stated, causing Dernier and Jones to groan at the fact that the two officers who out ranked all of them were putting their foot down like responsible adults.

“Besides, save it for after the debriefing, guys,” Steve followed up. “I convinced Philips to give us the rest of the day off, instead of making it a duty day.”

Cheers rang about, just as they entered the pub. Someone managed to guide all of them to a table. As they all sat, Bucky saw DumDum give the bartender a few signals to bring some ale for everyone around. Yet, even before they all got settled at the table, the Commandos began peppering Michael with questions.

Bucky deigned to ask any, preferring to contentedly sip his ale, listen to the questions and answers, and observe. Philips had not given him any amended orders, even after the successful action against the Panzer corps. Nor had the SSR commander given him any indications to stop vetting Michael.

He knew that one successful proof of innocence was likely not going to convince Philips that Michael was not a threat to anyone. But, he couldn’t just go around contriving situations to test Michael’s loyalty. That was stupidly idiotic and a waste of his time.

He also had had the entire trip back from the field to London to think about how exactly Peggy had vetted him, and what possible techniques she had used. He reasonably assumed that most of the vetting had just been through the friendship they had developed – along with their mutual worry and need to protect Steve.

It certainly was the best way to vet Michael – becoming a friend to him. When – not if – Steve and Peggy got married, Bucky was certain that Michael would become a closer part of the two's lives. By proxy, Michael would also be around Bucky's own circle of close friends as well.

But he knew that developing a friendship with Michael would take time, and he suspected that he would not get that time. Not if the SOE was determined to put Michael back out into the field. Thus, Bucky settled for observations; hoping that a thorough report at the end of the day would be able to convince Philips.

At the present though, Michael answered each of the Commandos' questions with ease and humor. If Peggy fitting in with the Commandos was anything to say, Michael definitely had no problem fitting in with the rest of them. His sense of humor was as wicked as the rest of them, if not more. Though Peggy’s brother didn’t tell many stories, it was mainly Peggy giving him exasperated looks that caused the most laughter from the Commandos.

“Speaking of family,” DumDum spoke up after a while, and as the laughter and chatter started to die. “You’ve been unusually quiet, Barnes. Not just now, but since you got that letter from home. Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky shrugged, deciding that it was better to let the Commandos know now, rather than never. Letters that they all received from home usually did not remain confidential; the Commandos considered each other brothers-in-arms. Sister-in-arms with Peggy among them. And they watched each others' backs on and off the field.

Steve already knew, as he had been the first person to share the news from home with, but had not said a word to any of the others. “Becca, the oldest of my sisters, got engaged,” Bucky stated.

“Congratulations to her!” Jones said, as others chimed in with their congratulatory praises.

Mugs of ale clinked together as Bucky celebrated the news with a toast among the other Commandos. Even Peggy and her brother joined in. The fact that Peggy looked as surprised as the others told Bucky that Steve hadn’t even told Peggy the news. He didn’t know what to make of that.

“Applying for leave back to the States soon then, Barnes?” Falsworth asked as soon as the noise died slightly.

“No,” he answered, shaking his head slightly. “No date set for the wedding, yet. Gives me time. Guess I need to see if its feasible for me to find a way to squirrel away some or all of my reserve chute the next time we jump. I want to bring it back to Becca as a wedding present. Have a seamstress make a veil train or something.”

“Wow,” Dernier stated, staring at him.

“I would have never thought you had that soft of a spot, Barnes,” DumDum chimed in. “I mean, considering you're all steely-eyed in the scope, I'd thought you'd be blowing up about your sister marrying some guy that you've never met.”

Bucky shrugged, but didn't answer DumDum's comment. He didn't dare look over to Steve either. Steve was the only one who knew that he had sent a strongly-worded letter directly to Becca's fiance. It detailed certain things that would happen if the soon-to-be brother-in-law ever broke his sister's heart.

“So, you have... two, three sisters—” Dernier began, French accent on his English strong.

“No,” Bucky bluntly interrupted, glaring at Dernier though there wasn't much heat in the look.

He then slid his gaze to the other Commandos, repeating his denial towards each. He knew what Dernier was about to ask – he was waiting for this to come up as soon as the other Commandos heard about Becca's engagement.

“But they're single—” DumDum began, as the others laughed in amusement.

“No,” he repeated. “I ain't gonna wanna see yous ugly mugs on New Years, Easter, or Christmas.”

The heavy drawl he affected was only for effect, but it got the point across. Except for Steve, the other Commandos were under the impression that New York was still tightly controlled by the mob bosses. There were some slight truths to the assumption, but Bucky did not mind playing the perception at the moment. There was no way in hell he would ever let his friends date any of his sisters.

“Was he always like this, Rogers?” Falsworth asked as the other Commandos made some protesting noise.

Bucky had to try his hardest to hide the smile that threatened to erupt across his lips as he saw Steve sagely nod. “All boys had to maintain a ten-feet radius,” Steve solemnly began. “I was considered family, so I had an exception and had to help maintain the radius. All of his sisters were treated like nuns—”

“Steve,” Peggy said, elbowing Steve on his side while shaking her head in exasperation.

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh as he slapped Steve on the shoulder for a brief moment, thanking him for breaking up the peppered questions about the letter. The others joined in, as they segued back to asking Michael and Peggy questions.

The two hours they spent in the pub were relaxing – and none of them got drunk. By the end of it, Bucky thought he had a solid grasp on what Michael was like – at least on the surface, and enough to extrapolate some reasonable deeper assumptions. He hoped that with the debriefing they were all about to attend, that he could solidify his report to Philips about Michael Carter.

It was Steve and Falsworth who ushered all of them back down into the underground base at the end of their brief leave on the surface. As they left the pub, spirits high and ready to get the debriefing over with, Bucky saw out of the corner of his eyes, Michael leaning slightly towards him.

“I can only guess what your true reaction was, when you got that letter from your sister, Bucky,” Michael murmured in a knowing tone. “I know what it felt like with Peggy, and just wanted to wish you the best of luck.”

Bucky glanced over, surprised at the unstated admission from Michael that Peggy had a fiance. What happened to said fiance was not mentioned. However, judging by the jovial tone that Michael had stated the oblique admission, it sounded as if Peggy's former fiance had not been killed or otherwise incapacitated.

He could only surmise that the engagement between Peggy and her fiance had been broken, but for reasons that he was a little too polite to inquire about. Yet, he couldn't help but quirk up the edges of his lips in a smile of hilarity at Michael's words – both stated and unstated. Without giving away anything to the others, Steve included, he turned his head slightly and nodded in acknowledgment.

They entered the building, got buzzed in by the on-duty secretary, and made their way down. Bucky looked over towards the planning table to see that Philips, along with Lorraine were already there. Another man wearing the British armed forces’ dark olive green uniform was also standing at the table.

Philips was pointing out a few things on the map to the man, before Lorraine's clearing of her throat alerted the two to the Commandos, Peggy, and Michael's approach. Both Philips and the man looked up, and it did not escape Bucky's notice that Peggy had halted for a brief moment, surprise eclipsing her face. He was sure that he hadn't been the only one to see her react that way, as she was looking straight at the man standing next to Philips.

That momentary pause disappeared, but Bucky didn't get an answer as to why she had reacted the way she had reacted. Steve stepped up, saying, “Colonel Philips, the Howling Commandos, along with Agents Carter and Carter reporting as ordered.”

“Captain Rogers,” Philips answered, nodding. “This is Major Creighton, the Foreign Office's representative.”

“Pleasure to meet you sir,” Steve said, extending a hand out to shake Creighton's hand.

“Yours as well, Captain,” Creighton stated.

There was no frills or any type of comment made in awe that Bucky would have expected from some stranger meeting Steve. It seemed that Creighton was all business-like, and not blinded by the fact that Captain America was standing in front of him.

They began to array themselves around the table, though as they did so, Philips gestured to them, saying, “Major Creighton, allow me to introduce you to the Howling Commandos: Major Falsworth – attached as liaison, Lieutenant Dugan, Sergeant Barnes, Corporal Morita, Corporal Jones – all of the 107th, and Private Dernier – a member of the French Resistance.”

“Gentlemen,” Creighton murmured as each of them shook the man's hand.

Bucky was no stranger to the formality that Philips was employing at the moment, since he heard most of what happened from Steve. Steve attended so many briefings with the brass and higher-ups that he hated the formality; or at least he complained a lot about it to Bucky.

This was the first time that the Commandos had been called in to such a high-level meeting. It was a good thing that Steve and Falsworth had imposed the no getting drunk rule earlier – and made sure that the rest of them adhered to it.

Philips then gestured to Peggy, who had strangely taken a seat across the table, instead of next to Philips. Bucky found it slightly odd for her to do such a thing, as he was used to her sitting next to Philips' right, while Lorraine, Steve, or someone else would sit on the left.

“This is my second-in-command, Agent Pe—”

“Peggy Carter,” Creighton stated, nodding towards Peggy in greeting.

“Fred. Pleasure,” Peggy greeted in a strained tone. “I had not heard that you transferred from Home Office.”

“Recently transferred,” was all that Creighton answered in an equally strained tone, as the two quickly shook hands.

Bucky glanced over at Steve, puzzled at the stiffness of the two's handshake. He saw Steve shrug slightly, indicating that he did not know of the reason. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Michael grimace slightly.

And then it hit him – as he thought back to Michael's earlier words about knowing how it felt to have a younger sister become engaged to an unknown man.

The likelihood that Major Creighton being Peggy's former fiance was slim. But considering that Bucky knew that Peggy treated every other officer or politician not of the SSR with politeness – however strained it sometimes was – there was a chance that Creighton had been Peggy's fiance. It would certainly explain the stiffness of the two's exchange.

“And this is Agent Michael Carter,” Philips stated, as if the brief, awkward exchange between Peggy and Creighton had not happened.

“Good to see and hear that you're not dead, Agent Carter,” Creighton stated, nodding.

As soon as introductions were finished, and them settled, the debriefing began. Michael recounted the horrific actions that he and his team had gone through. Even sitting next to him at the table, Bucky could not hear any inflection that hinted at anger, fear, or pain within the SOE agent's tone.

As much as it surprised him, it was only his brief glance down at Michael's folded hands, resting on the table, that told him otherwise. Peggy's brother was pushing his thumbs together with such force that the tips were turning white.

Bucky dared not do anything though, or say a word. There was nothing he could do anyways for Michael. The man had horrific memories – possibly even worse than Bucky's own when he had been a prisoner himself. To be asked to recount everything out loud in such a public setting was bound to make anyone uncomfortable.

He listened, he sympathized, and hoped that somewhere in the recount, Philips would take this into consideration. To have survived in HYDRA's hands doing hard labor, while being moved from place to place as the SSR began to encroach and destroy their facilities, was no small feat. Bucky didn't know how he himself would have survived his own time in captivity, had it not been for—

“Is a verbal recount of what he and his fellow soldiers faced necessary, Major Creighton?”

Steve's interruption was highly uncharacteristic, and it caught the attention of everyone around the table. Even Philips had paused in whatever notes he was taking down, and looked up. Though Steve's tone was polite, Bucky could see the anger building in his eyes. Bucky hoped that Philips would at least have the decency enough to stop this... interrogation—

“SOE protocol for any field agent captured by the enemy and released, Captain.”

Bucky was not the only one to blink in surprise, staring at Peggy. She had stated those words in a distinctly direct, frank tone. It was a far cry from the usual tone she used during any debriefings or briefings with the Commandos or other teams.

“But he wasn't released,” Falsworth pointed out before Steve could, looking concerned. “We found him, captive.”

“Which is what Major Creighton is here to confirm,” Philips answered in an irritated tone, before glancing over towards Michael. “Do continue, Agent Carter.”

“Sir,” Michael answered, showing no discomfort towards the brief pause.

Michael continued, and for the next few minutes, the silence that fell over those in the planning table, and within the vicinity of it, was palpable. Only the scratching of pens on paper, and the ambient noise of the rest of the SSR going about their daily activities punctured the silence.

Each moment of Michael’s time in captivity that he recounted sounded worse and worse. Yet, there was a stoic look in Michael's expression, though Bucky could see his tension growing with just how white the tips of Michael's thumbs were becoming.

It was only when Bucky briefly flicked his eyes up and around the table, that he noticed that Peggy was sitting in the same manner as her brother. Though outwardly calm and in control, if Bucky did not know her as well as he did, he would have thought her listening to the recount with as much impassivity as she could muster. It certainly looked like that, but under her tutelage, he had gotten a lot better than he already was, at reading people with a glance.

She did not want to be here.

Strangely, it was not due to listening to her brother's recount. Bucky knew that that would have garnered a different reaction – he had seen it before whenever Steve recounted the more horrific things the Commandos had seen and experienced in the field. The only reasonable explanation that he could come up with, was perhaps it was Major Creighton, that caused her to not want to be present.

Regardless, before he even considered the thought of helping her get out of a debriefing just this once, Bucky heard approaching footsteps on the floor. He was not the only one to glance back as Philips glanced up, eyes pinned towards his general direction.

Emily Hattersfield, one of Peggy's most talented code breakers and linguists, and someone Bucky considered a good friend was standing slightly behind him. There was a brown folder in her hands. She looked hesitant, but also worried.

Michael had fallen silent, and had turned as well. It was incredibly rare that anyone disturbed the debriefings or briefings that went on at the planning map area. Those who did, only did so because some higher-up on the phone or radio had demanded Philips' attention right at that moment. Emily looked like she did not have a message to pass on.

“Yes?” Philips gruffly questioned, nearly barking it.

“I apologize, but the priority intercept that arrived a half-hour ago is still ciphered. The problem layer is in Russian. Mr. Rutherford and Miss Halsey cannot decode it. We need Agent Carter's help, sir,” Emily stated with a slight quaver in her voice.

Bucky didn't blame her for sounding and looking nervous. She had confidence, but faced with a clearly annoyed Philips was bound to make anyone who didn't interact directly with the SSR commander often enough, nervous.

“Carter, go help them,” Philips ordered a second later, surprising everyone around the table.

Priority intercept messages were always ciphered, and sometimes took one or two code breakers to initialize and set the keys in the bombe decryption, before the message could be sent through. This was the first time Bucky had heard of a priority message to contain encryption in Russian. As far as he knew, all intercepts had been in German.

“Yes, sir,” Peggy answered, gathering up the notes that she had taken thus far.

Bucky glanced over at his commander, noting that while Philips still looked irritated at the interruption, there was some worry in his expression. It certainly was not for Peggy though – Philips looked worried about the fact that the message was ciphered in Russian. Of Lorraine, it looked as if she had not been paying attention and was still making notes in the reports from the field. Creighton was frowning, but wiped that from his face a few moments later.

Michael's debriefing continued, but with the interruption it seemed that there was a heightened sense of alertness about all of them. Bucky still sympathized with what the agent had faced, but the details and descriptions from Michael seemed to get shorter and sharper. Soon, Peggy's brother was done.

It was Steve and the rest of the Commando's turn to debrief to Creighton as to what their mission entailed and how they had come to find the soldiers at the facility. However, rather then let Steve to all the talking, Creighton asked pointed questions to each of the Commandos, using the summary report that Lorraine had annotated.

Bucky was extremely careful not to mention or allude to his secret assassination mission that he had carried out on Philips' orders. He knew that he had to keep a consistent story with what he, along with the Commandos were saying, and did so. He did not expect to see any sort of approval on Philips' expression for lying so carefully, and none was given when he was done with his part of the debrief.

Whether it was coincidental timing, or Peggy had also been listening into the debrief after she had left to go help her code breakers, she returned. It was just as Steve finished narrating what the Commandos had done to get away from the facility.

“Pardon the interruption, sirs, but the priority intercept concerns not just the SSR, but possibly the Foreign Office. Perhaps even with Allied Command,” Peggy stated just as Steve fell silent.

There was a strange formality in her tone that Bucky had not heard before. It was even stranger than the tone she had used when explaining SOE protocol on their agents to Steve. As much as that tone had worried Bucky, this one worried him even more.

“An element of the Soviet forces wants to meet with not only the SSR, but all other Allied Intelligence groups,” Peggy continued after a moment's pause. “The message was signed by Alexei Shostakov of the Guard Department.”

“The Guard Department?” Philips questioned, frowning slightly.

At the same time, Steve was a little faster in raising his question, “Shostakov?”

“Охранное отделение?” Creighton had questioned a split second after the first two questions were asked. “As in Отделение по Охранению Общественной Безопасности и Порядка, Peg—Agent Carter?”

Bucky glanced over towards Creighton, slight surprise filling him, as Peggy answered, “Yes, to all questions.”

“Major Creighton?” Philips' question seemed to bring curious eyes onto the Foreign Office representative.

“I know very little Russian other than a few terminologies, sir,” Creighton answered, frowning slightly. “What I had been tasked with, when both Home and Foreign Offices were coordinating with our Soviet allies on the offensives, was to ensure that the Soviet intelligence arm was robust. The Охранное отделение, or the Guard Department, was the secret-police organization of Imperial Russia. They were supposedly dissolved in 1917. There are rumors that a few former members of that group are currently working in some capacity within the Soviet government.”

“Too obvious for a trap, considering the trouble that the double encryption—” Philips began.

“Triple,” Peggy interrupted, then seemed to realize that she had interrupted her superior officer. “Sir,” she amended. “The German dialect used in the secondary encryption after the initial bombe decryption was deciphered by Miss Hattersfield is a seldom spoken one. The third one was Russian, ciphered using words specific to the intelligence we gave Colonel Rostov and his people in Estonia.”

If Philips' frown could get any deeper, it did so.

It was interrupted by Creighton asking, “Shostakov. I presume that he was one of the participants in SSR activities in Estonia?”

“Yes,” Philips answered, but did not elaborate.

“If it's any help, I think this Shostakov fellow may also saying that the Soviet forces might have a way into the Nazi lines. As in, they've turned the tables on those Krauts, the same way the Krauts turned the tables on the Guards back in the previous war,” Michael spoke up in the brief silence that had fallen over the table.

“I will take your surface analysis into consideration, Agent Carter,” Creighton answered in a stiff tone. “But rest assure, I don't believe that the Foreign Office will be requesting SOE help, if this message proves to be genuine. The SOE has already perpetrated enough chaos behind enemy lines as-is.”

“Yes, sir,” Michael answered with no resentment coloring his tone.

However, Bucky tucked that piece of information about the SOE in general into the back of his thoughts. He thought the SSR were the only ones doing quite disruptive work in the field – but mainly against HYDRA. He hadn't realized that the British had an organization causing a lot of chaos behind enemy lines. He had assumed that the SOE was similar to the OSS: producing propaganda and passive intelligence collection.

It certainly would explain why the SOE had had at least two platoon of men they were able to send to Norway. It would also explain the wide berth that the SSR had given the Allied forces in several towns and cities in France. Philips had vaguely cited that intelligence operations were going on in those cities.

“Colonel Philips, may I have a copy of that priority intercept?” Creighton then asked Philips.

“Carter,” Philips nodded towards Peggy.

Peggy silently stepped forward and handed the brown folder to Creighton, and stepped back. Bucky saw the man take a look at the paper it contained, before placing it on top of the other folders and materials he had collected together.

Creighton focused his attention on Michael a few moments later, saying, “I think I've heard enough to provide a recommendation and report to my superiors, Agent Carter. For now, your orders are to take some leave until recalled.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Commandos, you have a twelve-hour leave granted. Please remain within the city,” Philips spoke up a moment later, nodding to the rest of them around the table that they were dismissed.

“Yes, sir,” Bucky and the rest of the Commandos answered.

As they all got up from the table, Falsworth spoke up, saying, “Might I offer you, Michael, and your sister – if permitted – an arrangement of transport to Ravenholm Manor? It's just outside of London. I'm sure your parents would be glad to see both of you.”

Bucky blinked in surprise as Morita whistled in awe and appreciation, and Steve smiled. The other Commandos had varying expressions of surprise on their faces as well. Bucky remembered Peggy mentioning to both him and Steve that her parents had decided to remain outside of London after being evacuated during the Blitz. He hadn't realized that they had been evacuated to Falsworth's manor.

Peggy's reaction was carrying as much grace as she could muster with the unexpected offer. She was flushing slightly pink in her cheeks in embarrassment though. Michael had glanced over at her sister in slight confusion, before looking over towards Philips. Bucky could see the silent askance of Michael towards Philips, to let Peggy take some leave time with him.

“Permission granted for a few days of leave, Agent Carter. Miss Hattersfield will take the lead in the SSR analysis of the priority message while you are gone,” Philips stated as he paused for a moment in escorting Creighton out of the SSR base.

“Thank you, sir,” Peggy answered.

As the Commandos slowly trickled out of the planning area, Bucky saw Steve approach Peggy, who wrapped up whatever arrangement was needed with Falsworth for transport to Falsworth's manor. He left the two alone, and instead, approached Michael.

“You all right?” he asked, stopping on the left of Michael, and faced the same outward direction. Out of the corner of his eyes, he had seen the happiness in Michael's eyes die as he looked elsewhere.

There was tension as clear as day in the way the SOE agent held himself, and Bucky didn't blame him for being so troubled. He felt sorry for him; no one should have ever have to gone through that kind of debrief, especially in such a public setting.

Bucky had never had to debrief what happened to him at Azzano – he had been a soldier and still was. As briefly as he wondered if Peggy would've had to have gone through the same kind of scrutiny and interrogation if she ever got captured, he put that thought to the side.

“Yes,” Michael's answer was quick; almost as if he had been burned by the question. Yet, the startled look in his eyes died fast as Bucky caught him glancing over at him.

“Yeah,” Michael repeated, in a more reassuring tone. “It is just during training, they told us what may happen to captured agents. They also told us that if the agent was lucky enough to survive and be rescued, what would happen afterwards. I just never thought it would happen to me.”

“You survived, Michael. You’re safe and home,” he solemnly answered, clapping the man on the shoulder in reassurance. “I don't know what Peggy's told you, but a good number of the 107th were prisoners of HYDRA for a while. We—they know what you've gone through, and I think more than a few of them would like to shove Major Creighton into the Thames for doing that to you.”

It was just enough to get Michael to shake his head slightly in exasperation, the gesture similar to Peggy. Bucky thought he also saw the edges of the SOE agent's lips quirk up in a smile. Satisfied that he had at least brought Michael’s spirits from whatever downtrodden depths it had fallen to, he let go.

“It is as Peggy stated: SOE protocol. Major Creighton... or at least the Foreign Office herself was the last entity that I had to convince that I am clear and clean. That I am not a turned agent,” Michael answered in a relieved tone. “Giving me leave without stating that I need to remain in the country gives me hope that the report that Major Creighton will present to his superiors will be positive.”

Bucky frowned. It was not because of the report, but because Philips still had not indicated via report or silent gestures about any changes with regards to his secret orders. Bucky still needed to carry out his vetting of Michael Carter, even after the uncomfortable debrief, actions to defend the field camp, and polygraph.

“Don't worry. The fact that he has some biases against the Carter family shouldn't factor into the report,” the SOE agent stated.

Bucky gave him a skeptical look, letting the misinterpretation of his frown slide to the side. “It's a little obvious that Peggy broke Creighton's heart by breaking their engagement,” he said. “You sure—”

He fell silent as Steve and Peggy approached, both looking happy and dare he think it – slightly scheming. Well, Peggy did. Steve just looked positively amused. Whatever it was that the two had discussed, he had a sudden feeling of not wanting to be involved—

“We were thinking of spending the first few hours of our collective leave down at the Savoy, before leaving for the manor. As a celebration to welcome you home, Michael,” Peggy said, smiling.

Bucky blinked in utter surprise, before glancing over at Steve, seeing him nod once. Steve could not lie for his life, and even he knew that Steve knew how expensive and fancy the Savoy was. Bucky didn't know how much Peggy was being paid by the SSR, but he had to have bet that it was not enough to cover any sort of meal at the Savoy.

Michael stared at Peggy for a few silent moments before stuttering, “S-Savoy?! Pegs, reservations for a table there takes months—”

“The manager owes me a favor,” Peggy explained. “My first and last assignment with the SOE before I transferred to the SSR. The favor for what I did is being held in trust.”

“Have fun,” Bucky said, grinning as he clapped both Steve and Michael on the back for a brief moment.

It was not just the expense that he wanted to avoid, even though it sounded as if Peggy would have it covered. It was two fold: one – he did not like 'fancy' dinners, even with friends. It felt disingenuous to him.

Additionally, he knew that he could use the time to try to convince Philips that Michael was clear and clean. Vetting Peggy's brother, whom he already considered a friend, was beginning to sit uncomfortably within him.

The second reason was that it was a personal dinner among family. He had already accepted that Steve and Peggy were going to get married. It stood to reason that perhaps Steve would find the time spent at the Savoy with Peggy and Michael much more useful than he would.

Bucky would always consider Steve to be his—

“You're coming as well, Bucky,” Steve stated, interrupting Bucky’s thoughts. Bucky saw his best friend’s lips split into a grin.

“What,” he flatly answered, folding his arms across his chest. However, one look into Steve's blue-green eyes stripped him of the protests that he was about to state.

As much as he wanted to make a noise of disgust, he settled for sighing in exasperation. Trust Steve to silently call him out on all the stupid things he had convinced Steve to do with him in childhood. Steve was asking him to come along, no strings attached; just come along, and enjoy the company.

“Fine,” he answered, unfolding his arms.

* * *

_Later, outside of London..._

“Good night.”

Peggy couldn't help but smile as she watched her brother close the door to their parents' suite with a finality. As soon as she caught Michael's smile at her, she chuckled. It was usually their parents who tucked them in night after night when they had been growing up. Now, a reversal of roles had been had.

It had been an extremely joyful reunion for the Carter family. Tears of happiness had been shed by everyone, as soon as Peggy and Michael had arrived at the manor, after an enjoyable and entertaining dinner at the Savoy. They had promised their parents that there would be plenty of time to catch up in the morning.

“Awake enough for a cup?” Michael whispered, gesturing for the two of them to go down to the sitting room.

“Always,” Peggy said, even though it was already late at night.

She was tired, but she wasn't sleepy enough yet. Peggy knew some of it was because she was still in shock of seeing her brother alive. It was an irrational fear of hers to think that if she fell asleep right there in the wing of Falsworth's manor that her parents occupied, that her brother would not be there in the morning. It was illogical, but she couldn't shake the feeling away – even after a week of seeing her brother each morning at the field camp.

As they descended the stairs, he said, “I'll prepare, you relax. Let me see if I still have the skills to brew it just the way you liked it.”

“All right,” she said, deciding to humor him, remembering that he had had atrocious tea making skills.

She settled herself in a spacious sitting room, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs under her. It had been a long time since she had been able to do that, much less enjoy a few days off. Since she had begun her work in the SOE and transferred to the SSR, she had not had a proper day off. She occasionally called her parents whenever she could, but her days when not in the field were spent in the SSR base.

Leaving London, visiting her parents, even having an evening meal without the worry of the SSR work weighing her down was refreshing. She had not known just how tired she was until she had arrived here. Yet, her irrational fear of Michael disappearing into thin air kept her awake.

“Here you go,” she heard her brother say. Turning slightly, she reached up and accepted the hot mug of tea that he held out to her.

He settled down next to her, kicking off his own shoes in a similar manner, while holding onto the mug in his hands. Peggy sipped her tea, made a face, and said, “Still as terrible as I remember.”

He laughed, and she joined in as well. She felt happier than she had been for a while. It had seemed that the only joy she found in her life was whenever Steve returned safe from every mission thus far, and the short, private moments of time they spent together. Now, she had her brother returned from the dead as well.

“That was some evening,” Michael absently stated after a few minutes of enjoyable silence.

“Yes,” she answered, and couldn't help but smile into her mug.

She would have fond memories of the dinner at the Savoy, surrounded by the three men she treasured and cared the most about. Steve had been a complete gentleman towards her, and she found it endearing.

She had seen the initial surprise reflected in Bucky's eyes at Steve's actions, but it had quickly melted into utter approval. She suspected that Bucky had most likely thought that Steve would be utterly hopeless in such a fancy social situation, but Peggy was glad that Steve had proven his best friend wrong.

Peggy glanced up, eyes tracking her brother as he stood up and went to one of the windows. She watched as he drew back the curtains, looking out into the inky black night. She had seen Michael, tense and uncomfortable after the horrific, but necessary debrief slowly melt into a relaxed stance during the meal. Most of his relaxing had been accelerated by the more personal but entertaining stories that Bucky was sharing around the table.

The only moment of awkwardness that had happened during the meal had been when Bucky had offhandedly mentioned that Frederic Creighton had been her former fiance. How Bucky had discerned that was not known to her, as she had never mentioned the fact that she had been engaged, and certainly not to Fred. Yet, it seemed that Steve had not known either, which led Peggy to believe that somewhere during that SOE-protocol debrief, Bucky had made some mental inference.

As much as it had pleased her to see that Bucky was growing marvelously as an intelligence field agent, the topic of her having a former fiance could not have come at a worse time. She was glad that Steve had taken it in stride and had not made a comment on it, as Michael had dove in for the rescue and steered the conversation elsewhere.

“I'm happy for you, Pegs.”

“Hmm?” Peggy absently hummed as she looked up from her far away stare at a table lamp.

“Steve Rogers,” she heard her brother say, as he sat down next to her. He gave her a small smile. “He's good for you.”

She raised an eyebrow as Michael fell silent. While it was rare that he gave out compliments, especially to her, it was rarer to see him approve of one of the men she had dated.

Peggy had broken up with every man she had gone out on a date with, before her brother had been deployed. It was only on the account of what her brother had observed and told her about the men she had dated, that she had done so.

The only time she had managed to go on more than one date, had been after he had been deployed. That eventually progressed into her getting engaged to Fred. She could have blamed her brother for ruining her engagement, but after receiving news that Michael had been killed-in-action... Well, she knew her brother always had her best interests in his heart, even though she sometimes felt that he was too overprotective.

Mentally sighing, Peggy couldn't call what she had with Steve 'dating', but neither could she deny that they had a somewhat intimate relationship – however fleeting in personal moments together it was. What they had, was enough for her at the moment; both of them had silently and mutually agreed to put duty in this war first. When the war ended, there would be plenty of time to explore the depths of their relationship.

“It's not because he's transformed into Captain America, Michael,” she softly stated.

“I know,” he answered, reaching out and placing a hand over her own, patting it. “I would never think of you as that shallow, Pegs.”

“Unlike some of the others,” she couldn't help but mutter, shaking her head slightly.

“Yet you use that as a blanket of protection,” he quietly stated in approval, with a touch of pride in his tone. “Others, except for perhaps your commander, a certain agent of his, and Captain Rogers, can't see that your supposed shallowness is a facade. But it's quite clear to me, and those three.”

“Two minutes. That's all you ever needed to completely read the room,” she couldn't help but say, giving him a slightly bitter smile. “This war would have ended earlier—”

“Don't, Peggy,” Michael stated, withdrawing his hand from on top of her own. “Don't blame yourself. None of you knew. I'm just glad that the Howling Commandos struck the facility when they did; before they moved all of us again.”

“I'm sorry,” she stated, not knowing what else to say.

“I'm just glad to be alive and home,” he answered, nodding in acceptance of her apology.

The silence that feel between them was warm and amicable. Peggy couldn't help but smile wistfully as the memories of a more peaceful, but just as rambunctious time in their lives floated across her thoughts. It was rare that her thoughts wandered to the past now, since the war, her duties, and Steve consumed her attention and thoughts—

“What did you mean by a certain agent of Philips?” she suddenly asked, wondering why her brother had specifically called that out.

“You didn't notice?” he asked, though a part of his tone was teasing, as he sipped his tea. “Piercing eyes staring at everything, stance outwardly relaxed but not, gorgeous—”

“Lorraine is a viper, Michael,” she cautioned, though her tone was not colored entirely in warning.

Of course her brother would notice Lorraine, even though Philips' personal secretary had been sitting where she would have usually sat – on the right of Philips. The woman was one of the most striking-looking people she had ever met.

She knew that Lorraine expertly wielded her doe-eyed, starlet looks to manipulate men to fall for her charms and give up their secrets. Her brother's eye for details would have immediately noticed someone like that.

“I had to warn certain members of the Commandos who are prone to flirt with any woman such as she, to keep their mouths shut,” she continued, shaking her head slightly. “I didn't want to see them hurt.”

“Ouch,” Michael answered, astonished. “Guess I'll keep my distance then, as well. Wouldn't want you to be constantly angry at me... if she ever becomes my wife.”

Peggy gaped at her brother, flabbergasted. However, the humorous smile that accompanied his words caused her to shake her head slightly in exasperation. She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips though, as the two of them dissolved into laughter.

Yet, as she began to calm down, she couldn't help but wonder if she had missed something significant with Michael's question. She knew Michael was always good at picking out unusual happenings in a room full of people, even if overt facial expressions didn't give anything away. Lorraine had been in the heart of the debriefing, but Peggy _had_ noticed that she had been reading reports and taking notes, not surveying the room.

What other personal agent could Philips have, other than Lorraine?

~~~

_At the same time, at SSR Headquarters..._

“He’s clean, sir,” Bucky stated with as much bluntness as possible. “Michael Carter isn’t a double agent, nor has he been turned by HYDRA.”

Philips took the folder that had the typed up version of his handwritten report about the details of where he had found the SOE agent and soldiers. Lorraine had just ‘happened’ to run into the four of them as soon as they had departed the Savoy, and had told him that Philips was going to distribute his portion of the report to the Foreign Office. That had necessitated him returning to SSR Headquarters to type it up.

Steve had offered to return with him, since it was getting late, and Peggy and Michael were departing for Falsworth’s manor. Bucky had waved him off, telling him to take the opportunity to work on some sketches without anyone to bother him. That had been a few hours ago.

Now, as Philips briefly perused through the typed report, Bucky was a little glad he had shooed Steve away. He had found an order from Philips buried within the handwritten report. It was to report to the SSR commander, and nothing else.

Philips put the folder to the side and folded his hands together. “That’s good to hear, but what about other entities?”

“Sir—” Bucky initially questioned, but realized that Philips had a point.

Just because prisoners were held in a facility controlled by HYDRA, did not mean that HYDRA had associations with other enemies. After all, HYDRA had been a science division of the Nazi forces, until they broke off on their own. But that never meant that scientists did not talk across the lines.

“If he was a double agent or a spy for the Krauts, I don’t believe Major Creighton would have granted him leave without conditions. Nor would Agent Carter have openly debrief the entire room about that priority message,” he stated.

“Good,” Philips answered, giving him no indication other than satisfaction with the reasoned report. “What about being a Soviet agent?”

This time, Bucky gave his commander a puzzled look. “Sir?” he asked.

“The analyses from all intelligence organizations has yet to be completed, but Hattersfield and her team have already given me preliminary analyses about the message that Shostakov sent. It’s real.”

Bucky openly frowned. Alexei Shostakov had been a platoon commander within the Soviet forces in Estonia, last he had known. The man had been the relay between the SSR and Rostov’s attack on the other villages surrounding Narva. Shostakov had been injured during the attack in which the prisoner that he and Steve had rescued – Marta – had been revealed to be an agent of HYDRA.

However, none of them could confirm whether or not Soviet forces had been involved in the turning or implantation of Marta. Psychological documents written in Russian had been found, but none of it was conclusive evidence – just only proof that someone within the HYDRA forces in that region had been able to read, understand, and implement what was written in the documents.

“Looks like Shostakov got a big promotion,” he couldn’t help but mutter.

“Looks like,” Philips agreed. “And if the analyses from the OSS, SIS, and SOE come back positive, we might just get the parliament of our dreams.”

Bucky took a deep breath and held it for a moment, before letting go. He had to be careful with his words, as he knew that what happened in Estonia still greatly irked Philips. “Sir,” he began. “Where we were recently conducting operations was no where near where the Soviet forces have been fighting. Where Michael and the others have been moved to throughout their years in captivity were also no where near any Soviet outposts.”

“So you’re saying that you’re unable to vet him before the SSR and others may potentially meet with Shostakov?” Philips asked, giving him a hard look.

“No, sir,” he answered. “I don’t believe he’s anyone’s agent except for the British. I don’t think he’s turned. His loyalty is to his home – to his country.”

“Interesting choice of words, Barnes,” Philips said.

Bucky knew that at this point, if Steve was in his shoes, he would have exploded with anger as to why he was questioning the integrity of a man so much. But Bucky wasn’t Steve, and he knew that Philips would never tell him why – only that the protection of the SSR and its assets were of the utmost importance. That was enough for Bucky to not question his commander.

Instead, he said, “You believe that Shostakov’s message was a little too coincidental, don’t you, sir?” Philips gave no indication that he had guessed right, and Bucky took it as a sign to plunge on. “That surface analysis as Creighton aptly put it, was a little too spot on, but Michael is right about it. The Soviets have found a way behind enemy lines to fully disrupt the war, and they need Allied help to carry it out.”

Silence answered Bucky’s analysis. It lasted for a few long moments before Philips stated, “Keep vetting him, Sergeant.”

~~~

_Somewhere in London along the Thames…_

The fog, the slightly spooky mood, and the sounds of the Thames lapping up the shore reminded Steve of New York. Except that such ambiance was not often disrupted by the honking of horns, or sirens wailing in the distance. It was getting late, but he was done with the preliminary outline of a new sketch he had been working on.

Bucky was right to have shooed him away to work on sketches without disturbance. Steve had not known just how much he had missed doing such a simple thing, and just enjoying the comforting weight of a pencil between his fingers until now. The edges of his lips quirked up in a slight smile – trust his best friend to know what he needed at the moment.

The clatter, followed swiftly by an explitive being spat out in anger shook Steve out of his musings as he paused in his walk. He dragged his eyes from the fog-filled Thames and towards the nearest ramp along the embankment of the river.

A man was there, and it looked as if he had spilled something from the sack he had been carrying. Steve hurried over, his footsteps loud and crunching on the gravel mixed with sand. “Hey there, let me help you,” he said, as he approached, seeing the man look up and behind him like a startled deer.

“Oh,” was all the man said, staring at him with wide eyes, before a sudden nervousness overtook him. “Um, no thank you...”

Before Steve could even kneel down to help the man pick up the things that had spilled out – which looked like empty bottles or jars – the man snatched everything up. “It’s all right,” the man nervously stated, gathering it all back into the sack in a fast manner. “Thanks, but I’m sure that you’ve got better things to do than to help me, sir.”

“All right,” he said, seeing that his continued presence was not causing the man to relax. He took a step back, as the man hefted up the sack.

The man took two steps up the ramp before pausing, and said, “If you could not tell my commander, sir, that I was here celebrating with my friends, I’d appreciate it. We ain’t done nothing wrong, but—”

It then hit Steve that the man in front of him was one of the soldiers that the SSR had freed recently from HYDRA captivity. The soldier was most likely due to be shipped out again for an operation, considering that he didn’t look injured. Steve didn’t blame him for celebrating in a slightly covert fashion – among friends, and in a place where their loudness wouldn’t be a headache for a bartender or other patrons.

“Sure thing,” he answered, nodding. “Good hunting out there, soldier.”

The soldier wordlessly nodded and scampered off. Steve shook his head as he turned to look down the embankment of the Thames. At least the soldier had the decency to clean up after the celebrations – taking the bottles that he and his friends had drunk—

At once, a strange smell unlike airplane fuel mixed with the rotten-egg smell of sulfur hit him as a gentle breeze from the east blew past him. As quick as it had come, it dissipated. Nevertheless, Steve turned back towards where the soldier had dropped the bottles.

He was quite sure that that was where the smell had come from. Such a noxious combination of smell tended to linger even without a breeze, as he knew from his memories of the Brooklyn Naval Shipyards. Bucky had sometimes returned to their shared apartment with that kind of smell clinging onto his work uniform.

He approached and knelt down, running his fingers over the rough ramp. It was damp, but it was also too dark for him to tell if the little amount of liquid that spilled out were alcoholic, fuel, or something else. Rubbing his fingers together didn’t give him any clues either.

Standing back up, he jogged up the ramp, but the soup of fog was too thick now for him to see where the soldier had been going. He frowned as he looked around one last time – hoping that what he had just smelled was a momentary strangeness, and nothing else.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Охрана (Guard Department) was the secret-police force of the Russian Empire before its fall in 1917. During WWI, its attentions were primarily focused on countering German espionage, until it was revealed that the Germans were funding revolutionaries in order to destabilize the nation. Michael's comments: “... the Soviet forces might have a way into the Nazi lines. As in, they've turned the tables on those Krauts, the same way the Krauts turned the tables on the Guards back in the previous war” is a direct allusion to this. That is, he thinks that some Soviet forces managed to infiltrate revolutionary and resistance forces in occupied areas – similar to what the SOE was/is known to do during WWII.
> 
> For those who don't know a lot about SOE operations; they primarily infiltrated enemy lines, and created a lot of unrest and turbulence in the regions they were in. The SOE's real-life rivalry with the SIS (both British intelligence organizations) is mirrored in this work of fiction between the American intelligence organizations: SSR and OSS.


	3. The Parliament of Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a smattering of Russian being spoken in this chapter. I'll be using the "< italics in English >" convention to denote what people are saying.
> 
> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 1, Episode 5.

**Chapter 3: The Parliament of Dreams**

_November 18 th, 1944, London..._

Peggy supposed that even just one day of peace, quiet, and a chance to enjoy life outside of her own chaotic one was enough to ask for. Instead, she had been granted nearly three whole days. It was also the amount of time that the SOE had seen fit to allow her brother to recover from his ordeal.

The phone call from the SOE had come just after dinner last night, summoning Michael back to London. She had decided to return as well, seeing that her reason for leave being granted was only because Michael was on leave. Their parents were well in health and spirit, and thus she had no other excuse to stay a few days longer.

Though Michael had stated it was just for a briefing, Peggy was worried. She found that she did not want her brother to be put back out into the field – not this soon. What he had suffered through in the past two years should have allowed him to be discharged from duty.

But she knew that he wouldn’t have taken a discharge from the service, no matter what. She knew from what stories had been told to her by her fellow agents in the SOE was that Michael loved being out in the field as an active agent. It was akin to breathing for him. In these past few days, she could see that his time in captivity had not diminished that.

“I suppose that this is my stop.”

“Yes,” Peggy said, looking over at the building. She tried to keep as much of the apprehension that she felt out of her voice.

The two of them had stopped just short of the three steps that would take Michael up and through the black door. Beyond that door was SOE Headquarters. Somewhere within the depths of that building was the room where he would receive his briefing—

She couldn't help but wring her hands in a slightly nervous manner. A moment later, two warm hands were placed on her shoulder as she looked up to see her brother with a kind, reassuring smile on his face.

“Good luck,” she quietly stated, remembering that they had stood like this a few years ago. It had been the last time she had seen her brother alive.

“Thanks,” he answered, lifting his hands off her shoulder. “I'm not going anywhere Pegs,” he said in a more reassuring tone. “Not this time. I'll be here at the end of the day.”

“I know,” she said, trying to keep the anxiety she felt out of her tone. “I know.”

“It's only a briefing, Peggy,” Michael stated again, giving her a cocky smile. “Don't worry.”

Peggy silently nodded, and without another word, Michael turned and left. She watched him walk up the three steps and enter the nondescript building. She barely caught a glimpse of the heavily armed guards standing just inside of the entrance way, as the black door closed with what felt like finality to her. Wringing her hands together again—

Footsteps scuffling on the lightly populated sidewalk caused her to look up and to her left. She saw Steve stumbling down the sidewalk, but righting himself just as quickly, as he approached. Peggy didn't know who or what had caused Steve to stumble, but she knew that it was most likely deliberate. After the super-soldier serum had transformed him, Steve was always surefooted.

The smile of understanding and reassurance that he gave her seemed to melt some of her nervousness away.

“He'll be all right,” Steve warmly stated, surprising her slightly as he slipped an arm around her waist.

He didn't pull her close like she had seen so many other men do to women, but opened the gesture slightly to allow her to lean into him if she wanted.

Peggy took the invitation for what it was, as she nodded. “I know,” she stated.

“And also, a good morning to you,” Steve said, almost as if it were an afterthought he had just remembered that proper niceties needed to be adhered to.

At that, Peggy couldn't help the slight smile that tugged on her lips.

~~~

“That was a kind gesture you did, Barnes. For both of them.”

Bucky unfolded his arms across his chest as he turned back slightly to see Falsworth standing behind him. He had been watching Steve and Peggy make their way down the street, arm in arm along the sidewalk. After pushing Steve out of their hiding spot, he was sure that Peggy had caught a glimpse of him in the shadows, but what was done was done.

“Trying to set Steve free from the ropes of his shyness,” he answered, leaning against the stone wall of the building that contained the SOE's headquarters. “He's had such terrible luck with women back home. With Peggy, that's not an opportunity I'm going to waste.”

“Understandable,” Falsworth stated, nodding in agreement. The Englishman looked as if he was about to say something else, but then thought against it, before finally saying, “Still, it was a kind thing you did, Barnes. Most would never give their best friend the opportunity that they could have taken themselves – or otherwise.”

“Or otherwise?” Bucky questioned, frowning slightly.

“I do hope that someday, you will find some happiness for yourself, Barnes,” Falsworth answered in an unusually solemn tone.

Before Bucky could get a word in, the Englishman said in a more upbeat tone, “Come, friend. Let us leave the two alone – give them some peace and quiet before the others find out about what they did this morning.”

“You make it sound as if it were a scandalous thing, Falsworth,” Bucky scoffed in half-amusement, deciding not to call the Englishman out on the strange words.

“You Yanks...” the officer began, shaking his head slightly.

“Always bringing trouble everywhere we go,” Bucky stated, smiling.

* * *

_SSR Headquarters..._

Chaos wasn’t quite the word that Steve used to describe the normal activities of the SSR. Yet, to an outsider, he could assume that seeing code breakers and other analysts running around like opportunistic pigeons diving for food on the streets, would seem chaotic. He did notice though, that there was a resigned look on Peggy’s face – which told him that this was a little more than the normal chaos.

“We found a cache of data yesterday,” he explained as both of them navigated their way through the throng of people and into the central area.

He managed to get both of them clear of the crowds and to where the planning map was. While it wasn’t quiet as the clickety-clack of machines and typewriters still filled the air, there were a little less amount of people walking by the area.

“Ciphered, of course,” he continued to say, and turned to point at the area where the ‘H’ flag had been replaced by a black flag that marked it cleared.

“Anyone hurt?” she asked, noting that the marker was close to the cluster of HYDRA facilities where they had found Michael and the others. The marker had been on the peak of one of the mountains that had bordered the south side of the clustered facilities.

“No. Dernier just got singed on his hair by his own explosive though. He said he wanted to see it go off, and at the last minute, popped his head out of the foxhole,” Steve answered, smiling slightly at the memory. “Jones saved him from doing something even more stupid.”

He saw Peggy sigh and shake her head in exasperation—

“Carter,” Philips interrupted, causing both of them to turn from the table. “You’re back. Good.”

“Sir,” Peggy answered, nodding as Steve saw the professionalism that she carried about her whenever on-duty take over.

He followed her example, and stood at parade rest. It looked as if Philips wanted to brief them both, and was glad to find them at the same time. “Lorraine, go find Barnes,” he heard Philips murmur to the secretary, before gesturing for the two of them to take a seat at the planning table.

Considering the wideness of the table, Steve opted to take a seat next to Peggy, who sat on the right side of their commander. None of them had to wait long as Lorraine returned, with Bucky following her.

Despite the seriousness that had fallen over the table, Bucky greeted them with a cheerful, “Good morning.”

Steve grinned, even though he knew that Bucky was most definitely not one to wake up early in the morning if it could be helped. The fact that Bucky had woken up incredibly early this morning just to wake him up and usher him out the door was something that Steve considered a miracle. That was, until Bucky told him that he got word from Falsworth that Peggy and Michael were returning to London, and that he, Steve, needed to make sure Peggy was all right.

It had been a short leave for Peggy and her brother, and Steve had initially found himself worrying more about Michael than Peggy when he had heard the news. Those of the 107th who had been held captive had not exactly been granted leave after being freed. But neither had they been put back into the field for slightly over two weeks after they had returned to London. Totaled together with the week that the SSR had remained at that field camp near Azzano came out to be a little over three weeks.

Michael only had a week at the field camp and three days here to recover. Steve felt that that was a little too short for someone to even recover from such horrific captivity. Peggy had told him that she felt the same way. Yet, the SOE thought otherwise. Steve was glad that Bucky had the foresight to think about that and push him towards the right actions when it concerned Peggy and her worry for her brother.

Unsurprisingly, or rather something that Steve was still puzzling over, Bucky took a seat next to Lorraine. The secretary merely spared Bucky a slightly withering look before returning to her notes.

Steve still didn't understand what exactly was going on between the two, except that their early days of flirting had evolved into downright snippy irritation on both of their parts. He never spoke to Bucky about it, since he had a gut feeling that he should leave it alone.

“The meeting with Alexei Shostakov will be happening tomorrow,” Philips began without preamble. “Analyses from the SOE, SIS, and OSS have all returned positive, matching Hattersfield and her team's final analysis. The message is real, and we've already been authorized to go ahead with the meeting.”

Steve blinked in surprise, but it was Peggy who beat all of them to the forefront, asking, “We? All four Allied intelligence organizations?”

“Yes,” Philips answered. “Along with other certain Allied parties of interest.”

Philips nodded towards Lorraine, who distributed folders clearly marked 'Eyes Only', followed by their names. “Your detailed orders are in there,” Philips stated, as Steve looked up, following Peggy's example to not open the folder at the moment. “Orders for the rest of the Commandos will be distributed to them as well. You are not to discuss the details of the orders amongst yourselves or others. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve answered in near-unison with Peggy and Bucky, though it was slightly automatic. He had many questions though—

“In general, I, along with Lorraine and Barnes will be attending the meeting. Given the potential discussions, I anticipate that it will take at least two days or more to work everything out,” Philips stated.

Steve glanced over towards Bucky, confusion mirroring the same expression on his best friend's face. He thought that Peggy would be the one to go, given that she had been the primary translator between Soviet forces and the SSR during the SSR's deployment in Estonia.

Bucky had only been tasked as a translator for a short while, due to Peggy need to go back out into the field to find the necessary documents for analyses. Peggy also had far more knowledge of the intelligence reports behind Estonia and other Soviet offensives.

Before either he or Bucky could question the attendance roster, Philips continued saying, “Carter, you're in charge of the SSR and all operations – starting from when this briefing ends and any in the future – until I return.”

“S-sir,” Peggy stuttered slightly in shock. “Yes, sir.”

As happy as Steve felt for her, especially with the fact that having a woman in charge of such an organization, Steve grew worried. Just what exactly was Philips anticipating to happen at the meeting to necessitate such a thing?

“Rogers, the OSS has requested you,” Philips continued.

“Now, sir?” he questioned.

“Part of the analyses conducted by all four organizations involved staging people in certain areas. You'll be staged with the OSS. The Commandos will be staged with the SIS, under the command of Falsworth,” Philips stated.

“But sir,” Peggy spoke up, frowning slightly. “SIS and OSS are passive intelligence gathering organizations. Do they know how and where to deploy them in the event of something necessitating the Commandos' deployment? To minimize possible casualties?”

“It was a part of the agreement the SSR and SOE made with the OSS and SIS,” Philips answered. “The details are in the folders.”

At once, Steve thought he understood something that was unstated: Peggy had specifically pointed out that the OSS and SIS gathered their information through a passive manner. Given the fairly destructive way that the SSR had found information throughout various HYDRA facilities, he could only assume that the SOE operated in a similar manner. It would certainly support Creighton's comments about the SOE that the officer had stated a few days ago.

“Any questions?” Philips asked after a moment of silence.

Steve still had plenty, but considering that Philips kept pointing them to the folders, he presumed that his questions would be fully answered there.

“Good hunting,” Philips stated after another few moments. “Carter, the show is now yours.”

“Yes, sir,” Peggy answered, as Philips and Lorraine got up and left the table.

Bucky didn't immediately get up to follow the two, as Steve saw him glance down at the folder, frowning. Steve got up and moved over to sit next to Bucky, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey Buck,” he said, drawing his best friend's attention away from the folder.

He could see worry in his eyes. Steve knew that he couldn't project his own worry as to what exactly Philips was anticipating to happen. Not when it looked like Bucky was losing confidence in the face of such a daunting task.

“End of the line, right? We know Shostakov. Nothing's going to happen. You're going to do a good job being a translator.”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered after a moment, as Steve saw the worry lessen in his eyes. “Yeah. End of the line, Steve.”

* * *

_November 19 th, 1944, Somewhere Outside of London..._

Bucky couldn’t help but look around the rather opulent foyer of the manor-turned-hotel that was to serve as the meeting place. He had seen a few when the 107th had been staging elsewhere in England in preparation for their deployment into Italy, but had never stepped foot into one – until now.

“Too rich for your tastes, Barnes?”

Bucky looked over to his right to see Lorraine stopping next to him, giving him a slightly disdainful look that matched the sharpness of her words and tone. She didn't remain next to him for long, and proceeded up the stairs to where all parties had been assigned quarters.

Ever since he had been ordered by Philips to not stymie her collection of data about all SSR personnel, she had taken to needling him with barbed words. He was confident that she didn't know about his work for Philips, but he couldn't help but wonder why she chose to continue to rub Philips order about the data collection in his face.

“Too rich for your mother's tastes,” he couldn't help but mutter towards her departing form.

The snorted laughter from his left startled him. Bucky looked over to see a most unexpected person there: Michael. “Peggy told me Lorraine was a viper,” Michael stated, giving him a sympathetic look.

He shrugged. Lorraine's words never affected him, and whatever he slung back at her didn't seem to affect her. However, he knew that shouting the insult out loud in such a place was not going to be conducive, nor would it look good on the SSR's part.

“Good to see you, Michael. Here as the SOE entourage?” he guessed, smiling slightly.

Bucky was feeling a little better than the initial nervousness he had had at what Philips had tasked him to do – that is, be the translator for not only the SSR, but everyone at the meeting. Though he was mindful of Philips' other secret orders about continuing to vet Michael, he was glad that there was a familiar, friendly face among the sea of strangers.

“Just myself and... Major Creighton, Bucky,” Michael answered, as Bucky saw him gesture to Creighton, who was talking to Philips and another person that he didn't recognize. “SIS opted to send their own group, and the Foreign Office thought that this would be a good way to get my feet wet again.”

Before Bucky could get a word in, he felt Michael clap him on the back for a brief moment before lifting his hand up and gesturing around him, saying, “Let's get settled and then we can go explore the place, yeah?”

“Are you twelve?” he asked in a joking manner, but had nodded in agreement.

“Close enough. Perhaps a few years off,” Michael answered in a facetious tone.

They made their way up the stairs and parted at the top, heading down different wings towards where they each had been assigned rooms. Considering the secrecy of the meeting, along with its importance, keeping two chaos-causing intelligence organizations and their personnel apart sat better for security purposes. There was also the request from SIS to keep SOE and SSR apart – for reasons that Bucky could only guess.

In his room, Bucky quickly stowed the satchel and clothes that he had brought with him. Estimates had placed the meeting at no greater than four days, but it was one particular device he had disassembled and brought with him that he needed to reassemble, activate, and secure.

The device had originally been made by his friend, David. It had been modified by both Howard Stark and David for this particular meeting. It was specifically modified to send an alert to both Steve and the Commandos by a remote button.

That remote button was held by him. Philips orders to him in the folder had not only included being the translator for all participants, but also to evaluate if there was any hint of HYDRA manipulations among the Soviet delegates.

Though Shostakov had been among the injured the last time he had interacted with the man, it seemed that Philips had taken his accusations about Shostakov seriously. Bucky had named the man as potentially someone who had activated the sleeper agent, Marta.

That watchful evaluation order was not known to the other intelligence organizations. They had only agreed that the SSR provide the negotiator and stage teams, since they were the ones with prior experience interacting with Shostakov. The other organizations had thought Steve and the Commandos staging a few miles away from the hotel was to prevent HYDRA or Nazis from getting wind, and outright invade the meeting with overwhelming force.

Assembling the device, he armed it, and slipped it underneath the wooden slats that held the mattress up. While there was a chance that the cleaning maids would find the device, it was slim. He had a feeling that servicing any rooms for the next few days would be off limits.

With the remote button, more of a cylindrical shaft the size of a cigarette, strapped to his ankle, he left and made his way back to where the main stairs were. Michael was already waiting, but just as Bucky reached him, the door to the foyer opened and in walked the Soviet delegation.

“Guess it's time to go to work,” he said, giving Peggy's brother an apologetic look.

“Good luck, then,” Michael answered, nodding in understanding.

Just as Bucky saw Philips appear from down the hall, Lorraine had entered the foyer, having been somewhere on the ground floor while Bucky had been getting settled in his room. She intercepted Shostakov, giving the man her most disarming smile as she shook his hand.

Coincidental or not, it seemed that Shostakov had seen Marta before, given his slightly startled reaction towards Lorraine. Marta had been 'molded' in the image of Lorraine. According to Peggy's report, Marta was supposed to be the first of many infiltrators slipped into the SSR.

Shostakov was good at covering his reaction though, as Bucky only caught it for a split second. Still, he had his primary job to do, and dallying in the second landing was not going to do well for the SSR's image.

Going down the stairs, his approach caught both Shostakov and the older grey-haired man who had entered with the Soviet officer’s attention. “< _Lieutenant Shostakov. Good morning. It is good to see that you're doing well._ >” he stated in Russian.

“< _It is Colonel now, Sergeant Barnes._ >” Shostakov answered, nodding as they briefly shook hands. “< _But it is good to see you as well. I had not anticipated you being here. I had expected that woman to be the translator._ >”

Bucky made no comment about Peggy, nor did he react to Shostakov’s rather large promotion, as he translated the words to Lorraine – and others within the vicinity. Once done, he introduced Lorraine, saying, “< _This is Miss Lorraine, Colonel Philips' aide. Your associate, here?_ >

“< _Mr. Lebedev._ >” Shostakov answered, gesturing to the grey-haired man. “< _He understands some English. At least better than I can. So if there's anything that needs immediacy, he'll be able to notify me._ >”

As Bucky translated and firmly shook the older man's hand, he couldn't help but notice that there was a gold wedding band on the man's ring finger. Every single other person attending the meeting had no such decoration, be it man or woman. It was a little odd, but Bucky couldn't help the brief remembrance of what had happened in Estonia.

The last time he had seen something like the gold band was when he and Steve had been captured and were being tortured. He had seen some man wearing an all-black cloak with a hood that masked the man, twisting or fiddling with a gold band.

“Then Lorraine will see Mr. Lebedev and your bags to your rooms,” he stated in English, stepping to the side as he gestured to Lorraine. It had not escaped his notice that the brass were starting to gathered, having been alerted to Shostakov showing up.

“Colonel Shostakov, welcome,” Philips stated, extending a hand out and briefly shook Shostakov’s hand. “If you’ll follow me, we’ve all got a long day ahead of us.”

Bucky stepped to the side and followed a half-pace behind the main entourage. He shoved all previous speculations he had had about Shostakov, and of the brief horrific memories of his time in captivity in Estonia, to the side. There was work to do, and he was going to do it to the best of his ability.

* * *

_OSS Staging Area, a few miles away..._

“Captain Rogers.”

Steve looked up the fuselage of the aircraft he had been staring at, blinking rapidly. He hadn’t meant to stare off in space, but at least it looked as if he had been inspecting the fuselage – with some intensity.

Corporal Evans of the OSS was standing before him, looking as serious as he remembered him to be. “Yes, Corporal?” he asked.

“Colonel Shostakov and his aide, a Mr. Anton Lebedev, have arrived. The negotiations have started,” the no-sense-of-humor NCO stated.

“Thank you, Corporal,” he answered, nodding.

With a simple nod towards him, Evans left, leaving Steve to return to staring at the fuselage again. He could not help it though, even if he had forced himself to walk from one aircraft in this hanger to another. Around and around, he had paced himself, looking at each rivet, each piece of metal that had been wielded and molded together to form each aircraft, in an effort to alleviate his nervousness.

He knew that Philips sometimes took suspicions above everything else to an extreme. Some times, there had been a good rationale behind it. Other times, it was only to make sure that everyone on a mission was wired tight and frosty to do their jobs with precision.

This… suspecting that something bad was going to happen, suggested that Philips did not trust the other intelligence organizations. That Philips _expected_ there to be an invasion of sorts. Otherwise, why stage him separately from the Commandos; to create a possible pincer or intercept attack if HYDRA decided to outright invade England?

Of course, air support and ground forces would be sent out first. But neither stood a chance against HYDRA’s powerful weaponry. Yet, staging both him and the Commandos in two different airfields, with the best pilots on hand and ready to go meant that they would be dropped into the heart of the invasion. But there was nothing in his orders to help evacuate those at the meeting.

He knew Bucky would do his best to get the civilians out of the line of fire, but the site was clear of any sort of forests for miles upon end. It was just rolling fields. Evacuating by land was guaranteed to—

“Hey, Steve. Come on over and play a round with us.”

Steve blinked and looked up again; Howard’s call out to him shaking him from his endless rondo of thoughts. He turned slightly towards where Howard was sitting among the crates that contained his weapons. That was another concern of his.

Howard and Howard’s best engineer, David Brewster, were staged here with him. They had brought several different types of weapons that could be mounted to aircraft and jeeps. Though the OSS had gotten incredibly curious, Steve had deterred the OSS to the best of his ability.

Steve couldn’t help but wonder just what was Philips expecting to happen to necessitate potentially exposing the weapons Howard had specifically developed for the SSR?

He knew that Howard had some smaller contracts with the US Army, and had walked away from whatever had been offered to him in Finow. But it seemed reckless of Philips to show the strength of the SSR, even to an allied intelligence organization.

“Steve,” Howard’s voice, startled Steve out of his thoughts again.

This time, Howard was standing next to him, and reached out to clasp a hand on his shoulder. Steering him away from the aircraft, he heard his friend say, “Come on, Steve. Stop worry about nothing and play a round with us. David here has been kicking my ass at the British version of Go Fish. I need some support here, my friend.”

The mild look that the young engineer threw Howard reminded Steve of the looks that Bucky sometimes gave the other Commandos whenever a round of poker was decisively won by him. It was an affected look of innocence that silently stated that the loser of the game was a sore loser.

Steve didn’t know the young engineer as well as Bucky did, but he could see that there was some inherent kindness within the young man. He had been made aware of it when Bucky had told him in confidence that David had traveled to Finow with Howard.

The young man had been terrified of walking away on orders from Howard – with soldiers pointing their weapons at their backs. Bucky had told him that the young man had wished he had had a gun on him.

One would have to be a complete monster to see that there were just some people who could not be soldiers. David was one of them, and he had seen and heard Bucky’s frustrations as to how this war was grinding down on resolve, morals, and the inherent goodness of people.

In the end, Steve had spoken strongly to Philips to _not_ arm and train civilians, such as young David. His words seemed to have enough of an effect that Philips had done something to placate the US Army from hounding Howard and his staff. What that ‘something’ was, Steve didn’t know, but he was glad.

“All right,” he said.

He had seen the worry in Howard’s eyes, but it was masked quite well under the bravado. Worry was also in David’s eyes, but Steve suspected it was not for deployment into the field and a potential HYDRA invasion. That worry was for a friend deployed – for Bucky – and Steve knew that his pacing was not helping anyone, least of all David. Steve needed to control himself, his own worry for Bucky, worry for why Philips had given Peggy total control over the SSR, and worry about what exactly Philips was expecting to happen.

The best that could happen was nothing.

“So, British version?” he asked, making his tone as relaxed as possible as he sat on top of the crates, and picked up the hand that had been doled out to him.

“Happy Families, sir,” David answered. “The rules are generally the same as your American version of Go Fish.”

“Okay then,” he said, nodding. “Go easy on the new guy?”

“Perhaps, sir.”

* * *

_SSR Headquarters..._

In Peggy’s opinion, the landscape sketches that Steve drew were the most beautiful. They showed mastery in the weight, texture, and manipulation of a simple pencil. The lines drawn of the latest one – near the Vauxhall embankment of the Thames with the fog rolling in – was incomplete, but Peggy still loved it.

Of course, she found herself blushing slightly whenever she found a sketch of herself within the pages. None of the sketches of her were intimate – she and Steve hadn’t even reached their first official ‘date’ yet, much less become more intimate than their occasional hand-holding or embraces. It was just that the details about her face, eyes, hair, uniform – everything that Steve sketched out was… astonishing.

She was not the only person that Steve sketched with intense attention paid to the details though. Bucky was the other subject of illustrative scrutiny. Peggy couldn’t help the sad smile that appeared every single time she saw a sketch of him in Steve’s sketchbook.

Steve did not know about Bucky’s deeply held secret – that much was clear. Peggy had worked it out from the moment she had stepped into that bar in her red dress. It was not her place to tell Steve though, and she knew just how grateful Bucky was for keeping his deepest secret in confidence.

It was not her place to tell Steve that—

“Ma’am?”

The knock on the door to Lorraine’s office and the calling out of her startled her from her musings. Peggy had finally understood why Philips almost always kept his office door shut, even during days whenever it was not busy. Not only did it block the distracted noise, it allowed a sense of peace and calm against the chaotic storm of mission assessments, chatter, and the machines.

Peggy thought she had been used to such an onslaught of noise, especially since she was in charge of the code-breakers. But reading all the reports from different Allied command groups, and from Atlantic Command had ended up being unproductive within the main area. Thus, she had taken shelter in Lorraine’s office.

“Come in,” she said, closing Steve’s sketchbook and placed it to the side. Peggy was glad that he had given it to her to peruse before he had left for the OSS staging area.

The door opened, and her best code-breaker, Emily Hattersfield, entered and closed the door behind her. “Apologies for disturbing you, ma’am, but the first report from the meeting has come in.”

“And?” she prompted when Emily fell silent.

The young woman was an excellent linguist and code-breaker, but still lacked the confidence whenever briefing superiors. Peggy had been trying to work on boosting that confidence as much as she could, between Bucky’s training of the young woman to be an intelligence operative within the SSR. She had begun to send Emily to briefings and debriefs in her stead, with some of the other 107th teams.

“Lieutenant Shostakov was promoted to Colonel following the death of Colonel Rostov during the Tallinn Offensive. He arrived at the meeting with an older man, estimated to be around fifty or sixty. The aide is a Mr. Anton Lebedev, and apparently the only one willing to show that he is married.”

“Odd, but all right,” Peggy stated, frowning slightly.

Intelligence operatives, even the commanders, were all careful enough to not show that they were married. No one wanted their loved ones to be in the line of fire, or used against them – hence wedding bands were rarely seen on any agent. The duty also came with high divorce rates, as Peggy had been told by her brother more often than not, that agents usually devoted their life to duty first, family second.

“The next report should be in during the afternoon,” Emily stated, before handing over the folder that contained the initial report sent by Lorraine. “There’s also a report from Scotland Yard that I believe may be of some interest.”

Peggy’s frown got a little deeper as she flipped the folder open, and slid the Shostakov meeting report to the side. As she read though it, she couldn’t help but murmur, “How odd.”

She looked back up and asked, “Is this accurate? The bodies of the five soldiers were found near Vauxhall?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emily answered, nodding.

“Estimated time of death was the night of the 14th…” she murmured mostly to herself, before a sudden thought struck her.

Putting the folder down on the desk, she pulled Steve’s sketchbook out and flipped to the page where Steve sketched the Vauxhall embankment of the Thames. The date that Steve had put on the corner of it stated that it was the 14th. It was same night the five solders who had been among those that the 107th had found in the cluster of HYDRA facilities, had been killed.

The connection was loose, but she knew that Steve would have told Philips if he had heard anything happening in the area that night. Setting the sketch to the side, she looked back up, saying, “Please keep me appraised of the Scotland Yard situation, Emily. I know the soldiers are not of the 107th, but their deaths may be of some concern to us.”

“Will do, ma’am,” Emily replied.

As soon as the young woman left, Peggy pulled the report closer to her and read through the details. The soldiers were supposed to have been deployed with the rest of their battalion to France to support Allied operations there. She knew from other reports that the battalion had already deployed to France and were encountering heavy resistance from entrenched Nazi forces.

Yet, the fact that Steve was there the night the soldiers had been killed did not sit well with her. There was nothing she could do at the moment though. Steve was deployed at the OSS staging area, and her instinct was telling her that she should not radio Steve with her questions about that night.

Perhaps when Steve and the others returned, and if Philips saw fit to grant the Commandos some leave, she could try to convince Steve to finish his nighttime sketch. While she went with him to investigate the area, of course.

* * *

 _At the_ _N_ _egotiation_ _S_ _ite,_ _later_ _..._

The cricket locker rooms on the other side of the hotel was the last place Bucky expected to find some much-needed peace and quiet. He had been surprisingly, but discreetly directed to the place by Lorraine. She had somehow sensed or seen his mental exhaustion, even though he had tried hard not to show it.

He had thought that his short time spent translating for Philips in the field had been arduous. That was peanuts compared to what he had just gone through. Yet, here he was, surrounded by relative peace and quiet; standing in front of the sink, staring at it—

The door suddenly opened and closed, causing Bucky to look up.

“Are you all right?” Michael asked, closing the distance between them, instead of going towards the adjoining bathroom. There was concern in the SOE agent's tone.

“I'm fine,” Bucky answered. “Philips needs me back out there?”

“Not yet,” Michael said. “Shostakov looked like he was wanting to talk to you—”

“Guess I'll have to play nice to him, since I'm the only one he understands,” Bucky said, sighing as he took a step back from the sink.

Before he could take a step towards the entrance to the locker room, Michael suddenly reached out with his left hand, clasping it lightly around Bucky's right shoulder. “You can stay here for a short while longer. I tried to convey as best as I could that you were busy with something that Philips tasked you with.”

Bucky blinked in surprise. “Thank... you,” he managed to say a moment later as his thoughts kicked him into action. “How...?”

“I had to be a translator in the field once before,” Michael answered. “French-to-English and back. Took a lot out of me, even though the languages are closer in syntax. I can only imagine how draining it is for you to translate to a room full of brass.”

He nodded, though didn't immediately ask the open-ended question presented. Considering the breadth of languages that Peggy knew, it wouldn't be a stretch to assume that her brother would have similar skills. While Michael's tone was conversational, Bucky couldn't tell if there was truth in his tone or not.

“Thanks—” Bucky began, but realized that Michael's hand was still on his shoulder. He knew that he would have normally shrugged it off after a few seconds, especially when the gesture was performed by one of the Commandos or others. The only exception he made in letting such a close, personal gesture remain was Steve—

“Sorry,” he heard Michael apologize as he glanced over see Michael lift his hand up slightly.

Instead of directly withdrawing his hand, Bucky felt Michael lightly trace his fingers down his sleeve until he reached his right hand. Bucky couldn't quite figure out why the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up as he stared at his right hand being held slightly up just by the tips of Michael's fingers.

“What are you—” he began, but never finished his question.

His vision was suddenly filled with a closeness that he did not expect, and was quickly followed by soft, warm lips briefly enveloping his own. As quickly as it had happened, it ended just as fast – with Bucky rooted to the spot, as he blinked once—twice.

He almost forgot to breathe.

It was only the second, “Sorry,” from Michael that Bucky finally managed to partially shake himself out of his stupor.

“Call it a good luck kiss,” Michael said, not looking apologetic at all. There was instead, a kind but still concerned look on his face. “I have a feeling that we're going to need it after the break. Shostakov is proving to be difficult to negotiate with, especially with his demands.”

By the time Bucky managed to completely shake himself out of his stupor, with the deepest and darkest of his fears bubbling up inside of him, Peggy's brother had already left. He stared at the door in which Michael had walked through, before lifting his right hand up. He stared at it, as if it were the most foreign thing he had ever seen.

That lightly teasing trace of fingers down his arm – that one simple gesture was...

There was bold, and then there was _**bold**_.

Never had Bucky ever encountered anyone as bold, nor as confident as Michael Carter. Had someone – anyone – walked in at that moment when their lips had met, they both would have been sentenced to death, no matter who they were.

He was sure that the order from Philips to clear Michael of being a turned agent did not involve anything like this. His own secret was still safe, but he had thought that Peggy had been joking when she had stated long ago that her brother could read a crowded room with one glance.

Michael couldn't have discerned his deepest secret... could he?

Bucky knew that Michael was handsome in looks – but was no suave charmer like Howard. He clearly remembered seeing the SOE agent attempting to flirt with a female guest of the Savoy on his way back from the bathroom. That had ended in a slight disaster that had made Peggy leave her seat to rescue her brother.

Or was that a lie as well? He knew that the SOE agent had attracted the attention of the women in the SSR, but was that a cover? A facade designed to fool everyone? Did Peggy's brother genuinely prefer the company of men—

“Get your head together, Barnes,” he softly growled to himself as the thoughts of why exactly he was standing in a locker room came rushing back.

He shook his head, shoving all thoughts of what had just happened to the back. “You've got work to do.”

* * *

_OSS Staging Area..._

“Captain Rogers.”

Steve turned around to see that far be it that it was Corporal Evans who had called out his name, but rather an OSS agent wearing an impeccable suit.

“Yes, Agent?” he asked, hoping that he had addressed the title of the OSS personnel correctly.

“We’ve just received word that the delegates have all adjourned for the moment. The reports from what has been discussed are being transmitted as we speak.”

“Good,” Steve said, getting up and following the OSS agent away from where Howard and David were.

They went over to the other side of the hangar, where the Enigma machines tailored to the OSS usage, were churning. Other agents the OSS were standing around what looked like a planning table. Some still openly glanced up in surprise at him, even though Steve had seen a few of them before on other occasions when the OSS requested his presence for propaganda purposes. Corporal Evans was standing near the far entrance, clearly on guard, and did not spare him a glance.

The wait for the report to process was not long, and soon, he along with the other agents were crowded around the planning table. The papers were laid out and the briefing began.

Steve only listened, and deigned to contribute his opinions to the briefing that was being given. He knew that there were just some things that the OSS did not have to know that the SSR knew or had done. The OSS needed to focus on the war against the Nazi, while the SSR was tasked with the war against HYDRA.

However, given the surprising revelation of Shostakov stating that his people had picked up rumors about a _joint_ HYDRA-Nazi super weapon being developed, it was a cause for concern. Still, he did not contribute to the debrief, knowing that it was still too preliminary for him to state anything of use thus far.

Philips had stated that the report on Estonia had gone out to all organizations, and thus, the OSS knew what had happened the last time the Soviets had requested SSR help to stop a HYDRA super weapon. Preliminary reports now indicated that Shostakov was asking for help again, but only because his people had tried to infiltrate behind enemy lines a little too much.

His people had been captured and executed. Now the enemy forces in the French region where this rumored super weapon was supposed to be, were on high alert. Shostakov had come here asking for the Allied forces to infiltrate their own people to get information. The Soviet commander had permission to commit a sizable amount of soldiers to the offensive in the region in exchange.

Steve could not help but frown in response to that declaration – it was almost like Estonia again. The last time, the Soviets had wanted to take the super weapon intact, but Bucky had destroyed it under orders. From there, it had spiraled into chaos that had ended with an enemy sleeper agent dead.

Negotiations were still ongoing though, but Steve was worried about the request to infiltrate Allied field agents into the heart of an alerted enemy territory. As far as field agents went, he knew that Peggy was the best – and he did not want her deployed for this.

* * *

_Nightfall, at the Negotiation Site..._

“You did well today, son.”

Somehow, Bucky managed to hide his surprise and merely nodded. He had not expected Philips to complement him at all, much less provide an evaluation of what he had done today in being a translator. It was apparently a day full of surprises—

“But we’re not done yet. What’s your assessment on Shostakov, Barnes?”

“He… well, his idiocy in deploying his people into that region too many times is evident,” Bucky couldn’t help but state. “But as far as his actions compared to Estonia, it looks as if he had seen Marta before. Whether it had been in camp or otherwise, his reaction to Lorraine waltzing in there was unmistakable.”

He suspected that Philips had deliberately arranged or ordered Lorraine to be in the foyer when Shostakov showed up. It was too much of a coincidence, and his knowing what Lorraine was – Philips’ personal spy – to have been accidental.

“Good. See if you can get him to talk about what happened in Estonia and after that, during a break tomorrow,” Philips ordered.

As much as Bucky wanted to say that he had been thoroughly exhausted after the first break, he did not. He had his duties to carry out. Exhaustion was not an excuse for flagging on those duties, especially when they concerned several hundreds of lives.

“Yes, sir,” he stated after a few moments.

“And what of the other...thing?” Philips asked. “Lorraine informed me that there was something said about exploring the hotel?”

 _Like a twelve year old_ , Bucky wanted to mutter, but held his tongue for the moment. He knew that Philips was referring to the vetting that he needed to do on Michael without outright stating it. In a hotel full of spies, it was natural that someone would attempt to listen in.

What had happened in that locker room was something that he still wasn’t sure if it had been a dream or real. When he had returned to the main room, Michael had carried on like usual. As if what had happened in the locker room had never happened. Thus, Bucky had shoved it completely out of his mind, and refocused on his duty as a translator.

Until now.

He silently shook his head, not trusting himself to say anything at the moment. He could not tell anyone – not even Philips about the one secret he **had** to keep secret above everything else. It would spell a death sentence on—

“Understood. I’m putting the Commandos on leave for thirty-six hours after this mission… this negotiation is over. Use it wisely, Barnes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep up the good work, Sergeant. Dismissed,” Philips stated in a louder tone for the benefit of anyone else who would try to eavesdrop into their conversation.

Bucky gave Philhips a salute, who returned it, and left. Outside in the deserted hall of the second landing, he heard murmured voices. It was not coming from anywhere near the rooms, but was floating up from the foyer.

As he silently approached the are where the second floor opened out into the foyer, he began to recognize the voice speaking, and was able to discern some words. There was a soft, high-pitched giggle that accompanied whatever words Michael was murmuring.

Stopping just before the open area, Bucky leaned against the near wall and remained in the shadows as he saw Michael and presumably one of the maids who worked in the hotel, near the ground floor’s far banister. Michael was flirting with the maid – successfully, given the blushing and giggles emanating from the maid. It was a far cry from what Bucky remembered seeing at the Savoy.

He couldn’t help but frown, as an uncertain feeling churned in his stomach. He knew that it wasn’t jealousy – he knew what jealousy felt like. It had reared its ugly head the moment Peggy had ignored him and completely held the attention of Steve. He had successfully suppressed his feelings of jealousy at what Steve and Peggy had.

Bucky just wasn’t sure if he liked what he was seeing Michael do, at the moment.

~*~*~*~


	4. Signs and Portents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 1, Episode 13.

**Chapter 4: Signs and Portents**

_SSR Headquarters..._

The negotiations took a shorter amount of time than anticipated, taking a grand total of two-and-a-half days. Whether it was due to the unusual demand of Shostakov, or some sort of agreement that the intelligence organization had come to without Shostakov present, or other factors was pure speculation.

Yet, Peggy was glad to hear Philips' declaration over the radio of, “All clear, all clear.”

She couldn't help but sigh in relief, as did the radio operator standing in the room with her. She hadn't realized just how tense she had been in the past couple of days. While she was glad that Philips had given her a chance and a taste as to how the SSR was run from the top on a day-to-day basis, she had been worried about the rationale behind it.

Now—“Negative on that. We're getting reports of possible prowlers on the edge of the coast.”

Falsworth's sudden statement through the radio sent a chill through Peggy. Falsworth was in charge of the Commandos staged with the SIS – east of where the meeting place was. It was the likeliest area where a potential intrusion or strike would originate from.

Staging Steve with the OSS and separated from the Commandos had been done for political reasons. Howard and his weapons as well, but mostly because Howard was an American weapons contractor and not British.

Peggy didn't like it. Nevertheless, she knew that to placate the OSS and to get their cooperation for any potential action that the SSR was going to take with the information gathered from the meeting, they needed the OSS to back them up politically.

Estonia had almost turned into a diplomatic disaster, no thanks to the destruction of the HYDRA super weapon there. It had also been due to what Bucky had said to Rostov in that immediate aftermath. Only she and Philips knew that the SSR was still suffering from the political fallout – and it would remain that way. The OSS was needed now, to help soothe any ruffled feathers in the future.

“Patrol is getting into the air. Confirmation in fifteen minutes,” the Englishman continued.

“SSR HQ copies,” Peggy stated into the radio.

“Site copies,” Philips answered.

“Pilots are on standby at OSS,” Steve stated. “Should we mount weapons, sir?”

“No. Advance to my position, Rogers. Bring the engineers,” Philips ordered.

“Yes, sir. ETA seven minutes,” Steve stated crisply over the radio as the sounds of a truck's engine being turned over briefly filled the air before being cut off.

Peggy pressed her lips together into a thin line as she stared at the radio. She had been given explicit orders from Philips not to send in whatever 107th teams were available until the order was given. Considering the breadth of destruction that the teams and Howard's weapons rendered HYDRA in the field, deploying them near London would only be done as a last resort.

~~~

_Negotiation Site..._

There was a brief moment of eerie silence that enveloped the entire area, including those within the hotel. One could hear a pin drop as soon as Falsworth's declaration of potential danger approaching crackled over the various radio packs that all organizations had.

It had been broadcast on the one frequency that all packs shared with each other – the emergency one specifically set up for the meeting. All other encrypted frequencies used were for communications back and forth between headquarters or other staging areas of each organization.

As soon as Steve's answer to Philips' order over the radio was cut off, Bucky saw the leader of the SIS representatives approach Philips. “We'll begin civilian evacuations. OSS is already deploying their part of the plan. We got generous, compared to the estimates, Colonel Philips.”

“Yes, we did,” Bucky heard his commander mutter, before nodding in acknowledgment.

Bucky couldn't help but frown ever so slightly. He didn't get much time to puzzle out the SIS commander's words as Major Creighton, leading Shostakov, and Shostakov's aide, approached. A puzzled-looking Michael followed the three.

Bucky was slightly glad that he wasn't the only one who was slightly confused as to what was going on. It seemed only the four leaders of the Allied intelligence organizations, along with a couple of other high-ranking representatives had an idea of what was happening. They were also the ones barking orders at the hotel staff to evacuate.

“We'll evacuate them to the safe house,” Creighton stated. “Once we're there, and if the stand down is not given, I'll notify the Prime Minister of what's happening.”

Philips wordlessly nodded in agreement, before turning to Bucky to look for a translation. As slightly puzzled as he was, Bucky did his best to try to explain the situation to Shostakov and Lebedev. Lebedev nervously twisted his ring in response, but it was Shostakov who asked the obvious question in response.

“Sirs, they want to know when they'll be cleared to return to the mainland, or make contact with their submarine off the coast,” Bucky translated back.

“When the all-clear is given,” Creighton stated, sounding annoyed.

Bucky waited a few seconds for the Foreign Office representative to put his words in a more diplomatic manner, but it never came. He translated the blunt words back into Russian, but far from being offended, Shostakov merely nodded.

“And the woman... Miss Lorraine?” Lebedev asked after a moment, his accent strong enough that it almost garbled his words. “She is not leaving?”

“No,” Philips stated, at the same time Lorraine adamantly shook her head.

“Sir, I am remaining behind as well,” Michael unexpectedly spoke up as Creighton began to guide the Soviet delegation away. Before Creighton could even answer the declaration, Michael turned to Philips, saying, “Colonel Philips, with your permission, I'd like to help carry out whatever operation the SSR is planning here.”

Philips didn't answer, but looked towards Creighton, who wore a clear frown. “I am not keen on wanting to bring your sister or your parents another letter, Agent Carter,” the Foreign Office representative stated.

“You won't, sir,” Michael answered. “Not for a while.”

Bucky saw both Creighton and Philips nod in response, silently accepting the help that Michael offered. The small gathering broke, and Philips began issuing orders. Bucky managed to shove his uncertainty about Michael to the back of his mind, focusing on the now – on what was about to happen in less than fifteen minutes.

As much as he wanted it to be a false alarm, he now understood that there had been a few things that Philips had left out of the orders that he had given all of them. One of them was the estimate of a likelihood of attack by some force. Another was the roles that all of the other organizations had in the event of an attack.

It truly was a coordinated effort by everyone that he had never thought would be achieved. Considering all the complaints he had heard from Steve about the OSS, along with what little he had heard about the rivalry between the SIS and SOE, this united front was—

“Good, they're here early,” Philips' statement jolted Bucky out of his thoughts as the sounds of a military cargo truck approaching drowned out all of the other noise of jeeps and cars with civilians being evacuated.

Bucky followed his commander out of the hotel, with Lorraine and Michael following. The speck of the cargo truck was growing larger with each passing second.

“Barnes, get geared up and onto the rooftop. I need eyes on the skies,” Philips ordered.

“Yes, sir,” he answered.

~~~

Steve didn't even wait for Howard to stop the truck as he jumped out and met Philips half way. He had not been surprised to see several jeeps and cars speed off in different directions as they had approached. Civilians, mainly the hotel staff, were being helped into other vehicles and sped away by what he could only presume were members of the various delegations. He was, however, slightly surprised that Michael and Lorraine were still there.

It was clear to him that there had been orders only Philips and perhaps some others knew about, judging by the non-chaotic, but hurried way that everyone was leaving. While it irked him slightly to not have been informed about evacuation orders, he was curious as to why Philips had them move to the Negotiation Site.

“Bucky,” he acknowledged with a single nod of his head, as he saw his best friend approach. He raised his hand and got a friendly slap against it in return, knowing that Philips must have given orders for Bucky to arm up and prepare to call out targets.

“Steve,” Bucky answered, nodding as well, before disappearing behind the now-parked cargo truck to retrieve weapons.

“We’ll set up two guns, preferably one on either side of the hotel if possible,” Philips stated.

Howard joined the small circle that had formed around the SSR commander. Steve could only presume that David was helping Bucky find all that he needed to arm up for reconnaissance.

“Stark, once the first one is set up, begin calibrating it while we get the other one set up. Tune it to the same frequency we’ve been using for the emergency line. Lorraine will be gunner. Carter, you’re on that first gun. Stark will give you the necessary instructions to operate the station that you will be manning. Rogers, Brewster, and I will be setting up the second one, and manning that one.”

As much as Steve wanted to state that he would most likely be more useful outside of the confining shell of the enormous perimeter guns, he refrained from doing so. He knew how to operate a sniper rifle, but he was not as good or as fast as Bucky was. It was clear that Philips was expecting first and foremost, air attacks. They needed accuracy on the guns.

A collective “yes, sir” sounded within the circle. Bucky hurried by all of them again, armed with a load out that was familiar to Steve: sniper rifle and regular rifle. As his best friend disappeared into the hotel, Steve followed the others towards the cargo truck and began helping unload the perimeter guns.

The enormous guns had been created by Howard and his team for the Estonia mission, and had been successfully deployed and operated in that theatre. They were a combination of ground forces deterrent and anti-aircraft; and were quite destructively effective at both.

Following their return to England, Howard and his team had made some significant improvements on the guns. It was namely shedding at least half of the weight to make it more easily transportable and able to be set up much quicker.

Maneuvering and setting the necessary pieces together for the first gun took nearly the entire time they had left. The radio pack set outside and nearest to them crackled just before Steve’s mental fifteen minute countdown expired.

“No contact. Too much fog in the region. The boys are going in for a lower pass,” Falsworth stated. “Patching them into the frequency.”

“HQ copies,” Peggy stated calmly.

“Site acknowledges,” Philips stated into the radio before returning to them.

“Gives us time, or makes it worse,” Steve heard Howard mutter before going to the other side to begin whatever calibrations were necessary on the first gun.

Steve didn’t say anything except nod and return to the truck. Unloading and moving the second gun, he listened to the low-level chatter of the three pilots. It was short and to the point. Most of it was about fuel management and altitude, as they flew the search pattern.

Suddenly, one of the pilots said, “Lead, I think I see something in the northwest at about one hundred above sea. Going to—”

The pilot didn’t even finish his statement, when a cacophony of curses issued over the radio. For a second, static seemed to overwhelm the radio, but was immediately cut off. It was swiftly followed by one of the pilots yelling, “What the bloody hell was that?!”

“Two bogeys incoming!” was all that Falsworth managed to get out, before static filled and garbled whatever else the Englishman was going to say.

Philips didn’t even get to reach the radio to ask for a repeat when Bucky’s curt voice stated, “I see them.”

Almost immediately after that statement was made, Steve began to hear the clear report of Bucky’s sniper rifle being fired – rapidly. In the distance and towards the east, he could see two dark specks growing faster and larger.

Between just how fast Bucky was firing his rifle, and the fact that Howard looked as if he was not done calibrating the gun, the two airplanes on approach were going to fly right past them in a matter of seconds. Lorraine, already within the pod of the gun, was trying to bring it to bear upon one of the enemy aircraft.

She was not going to make it.

A puff of black smoke suddenly erupted from the aircraft on the left, but Steve was already moving into action. Whatever the enemy airplanes were, they were most definitely HYDRA. Something that small and that fast moving could only be attributed to them.

Steve unhooked his shield from his back, and drew his arm back. The aircraft on the left veered off and spiraled into the ground, exploding into a blue ball of flames on impact. Just as the one on the right started to adjust its course towards Bucky who had managed to shoot its wingman down, Steve flung his shield with all of his might.

 _Not today, you bastards_.

It was an impossible shot, but Steve only needed that moment of seeing how the HYDRA aircraft reacted, its speedy approach, and its nimbleness to figure out the trajectory. It was a needle shot, but as incredible as Bucky was with a sniper rifle, Steve knew that his aim and accuracy laid in wielding his shield. He had made impossible strikes from afar with his shield before.

This time, it would be with help from Bucky, as he heard, rather than saw, Bucky’s sniper rifle reports take on a slightly different sound. Steve knew that with the trajectory that the shield was taking to intercept the other aircraft, it required fine-tune adjustment against the incoming enemy’s trajectory. Bucky would be able to provide that with each bullet that bounced against the spin of the vibranium shield.

The second aircraft exploded in mid-air, about three hundred yards from the edge of the hotel’s outer perimeter’s fence. Steve saw his shield fall with the debris, its silver hue reflecting the sunlight for a few brief moments.

David’s brief cheer filled the air before it was cut off with Bucky saying over the radio, “Two bogeys down. Anymore incoming, Falsworth?”

Somewhere in between the scouting pilots’ radios being cut into static, and what had just happened, it seemed that Falsworth had removed the scouts from the emergency frequency. “Negative for now, Barnes. A full squadron is flying up as we speak to clear the skies, but it looks like whatever HYDRA sent, it was only those two.”

Steve glanced over towards Philips, who had a stony look about him, before seeing him pick up the radio. “Give us the all-clear when possible, Falsworth.”

“Yes, sir,” the Englishman answered.

Steve nodded at the look that his commander gave him, knowing that with just how he and Bucky brought down the two enemy aircraft, they most likely would not get lucky after this. Like the others, Steve just hoped that perhaps it was just HYDRA attempting to frighten them, and truly not a prelude to invasion.

* * *

_SSR Headquarters..._

It was a couple of hours before an ‘all-clear’ was declared. Though Peggy had wanted to stand by the radio throughout the entire period and listen to what was exchanged, she couldn’t. The SSR and all of the missions they currently had deployed had to be tended to. Several 107 th  teams had returned in the interim, and had to be debriefed on what they had done. In exchange for putting all teams on standby – even the ones just returned – she had briefed them on the situation happening at the Negotiation Site.

As exhausted as some of the men were, Peggy had seen the keenness in their eyes to want to go help. She still did not deploy them though – Philips had not given the order at all. Even Prime Minister Churchill, who had surprisingly called her, had deferred to Philips’ decision on the 107 th  and deployment of additional SSR personnel.

When the ‘all-clear’ finally came in, Peggy was filled with relief. She dared not sag back into her seat as she placed the radio that had been moved to the planning table, down. Cheers filled the halls of the SSR as the word spread like wildfire. Steve and the others would soon return home.

Peggy didn’t do anything to silence them – everyone had been on edge as soon as Falsworth’s message had come in. This was as much as their victory over HYDRA’s attempt to invade, as it was a declaration of their readiness to defend their home.

In a much darker turn of thoughts, Peggy could not help but worry: HYDRA almost always kept to continental Europe. The only invasion that the SSR knew about, was their invasion into Norway – with overwhelming force. Two HYDRA aircraft had been spotted by patrols, and had been aimed uncannily towards the Negotiation Site.

Who had betrayed the location?

* * *

_Nightfall..._

“I didn't know you smoked.”

Bucky looked up from where he was watching a cigarette slowly burn its way down to his fingertips. Just as he began to feel the sting of the embers on his fingers, he dropped it to the rooftop and ground it out with a heel.

They had returned to SSR Headquarters just as the sun was beginning to set. After all that was said and done, Philips had granted them thirty-six hours of leave, as promised. Bucky more than a little astonished, since tensions were still high after HYDRA’s attempted invasion. Even Steve was concerned, until Philips had stated that Britain’s Home Office was coordinating efforts with parts of Atlantic Command in the aftermath and patrols. It was no longer the SSR’s duty or concern.

The only requirement that was given to them was for the Commandos to remain within London on their leave.

“I don't,” Bucky answered, returning to the present. He turned slightly as he saw David approach. There was some concern in his friend's eyes. “I just needed the reminder of home,” he stated, deciding the tell half of the truth to try to alleviate his friend's concern.

With Steve, he knew that his half-truth would not have passed muster at all. Steve knew him too well to buy the 'memory of home' lie. To Bucky's slight relief, David was a little easier for him to lie to. As much as he hated doing that to his friend, there were just some things about himself that he did not want David to know.

“Home?” David asked, stopping next to him.

David gave him an expectant look; to at least tell him a little about what was going through his thoughts. Praises and cheers in response to what had happened earlier today had already been exchanged. It was now, in the quiet of the aftermath, that other thoughts – darker ones – usually crept up on Bucky.

It was also why Bucky constantly sought the quietness of the rooftop after every mission since Estonia. He hated how dark his thoughts had turned in the past few months. It was like a stinging sea of burrs that wouldn’t let go, no matter how much he tried to keep his head above it.

“Sometimes, after a long day, I'd pass out to the smell of smokes,” he stated.

It was true, but from a point of view that was not colored with the awful truth. It was not because of the work he had done at the Brooklyn Shipyard, even though he had deliberately worded it that way. It was a childhood memory.

He had passed out, but only after his father had nearly beat him senseless. He always woke up to the heavy lingering smell of cigarettes on his clothes; as if his father had tried to burn him while unconscious. Burn and beat him, because he kept defying his father; kept saying those words that angered his father—

Bucky shook his head and apologetically said, “I'm not good company tonight, David. It's not a good night to talk to me, or even do some training. I'm sorry.”

“Emily and I wouldn't have asked you to train us anyways, Bucky,” David answered, placing a gentle hand on top of his right hand.

Bucky immediately pulled his hand away, as if he had been burned. He tucked his right hand close to his body, having seen the hurt look flash across his friend's eyes. He knew that David was only trying to reassure him. However, the action was reminding him of what had happened the first day of the negotiations with Shostakov – what happened in the cricket locker room.

“You're exhausted, Bucky,” David stated with kindness. “Today’s action, translating back and forth, for that long...”

Bucky could hear the slight hurt in his tone though, no matter how much the young engineer tried to hide it. Trying to deter David's seemingly immovable crush on him had not worked over the past year. But Bucky had made sure he continued to do nothing to get his friend's hopes up, and continued to make sure that they remained as they were – friends.

 _Hypocrite_.

Silence fell between them, and it was uncomfortable. Bucky did nothing to alleviate it though; his thoughts in too much of a whirlwind at the moment to even muster an apology. As he stared at his right hand tucked against him, it was only the sounds of the scarce night time London traffic below that seemed to soothe him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, David said, “If you need a place to stay other than the SSR's barracks, you know my door is always open.”

Bucky forced himself to nod to his friend’s words – to at least try to wordlessly know that he had heard him. The offer was a long standing offer – sleeping somewhere else in London whenever the Commandos were given leave within the city. He almost always slept in the barracks attached to the SSR Headquarters; as he felt more comfortable there than anywhere else in the city.

The one time that Bucky had taken up the offer had been what he thought would be his final night in the SSR, several months ago. He had been drawn up for disciplinary action after insulting the Soviet commander the SSR had liaised with in Estonia. He had thought that Philips was going to dishonorably discharge him from the US Army and ship him back home, just to appease diplomatic channels.

It never happened. Bucky had been given the offer to serve in a secret capacity as an assassin for Philips. In return, he remained in the Commandos, in the SSR, and most importantly, able to keep his promise to Steve.

But that one time he had taken up David’s offer to sleep elsewhere had been out of a sense of desperation, inevitability, and not wanting to hear the whispered rumors of his disciplinary action pass from person to person in the SSR. It had also been to avoid talking with Steve about what had happened in Estonia.

David’s door was still open, but—

“David,” Bucky said, nearly whispering his words.

Bucky hadn’t meant for his voice to come out like a croak, but he knew that keeping his a part of his doubts within him was affecting his ability to do his duties. He couldn’t talk to Steve about this, as it was for the sake of Steve – and Peggy – he was making sure Michael was not a double agent, for. Steve saw the good in people, and Bucky did not want to fill that goodness with the darkness of doubt.

The slight scuffling of footsteps on the rooftop stopped, as Bucky glanced behind him for a moment to see his friend turn back. “Yes?” David asked, but did not approach again.

A flash of guilt washed over Bucky – he had hurt David more than he had ever done before. Some friend he was. “I’m sorry,” he apologized.

“You’re exhausted,” David repeated. “Please, at least try to get some rest in the thirty-six hours of leave that Colonel Philips gave all of you.”

“I will,” he said, nodding. It was the whole truth this time. He turned to stare back out into the city. “It’s just...”

“Something happened in the meeting?” David guessed, as Bucky heard the scuffling footsteps approach, before David stopped next to him again. “Did Colonel Shostakov say something similar to what Colonel Rostov had in Estonia?”

“Among other things,” Bucky couldn’t help but mutter, remembering the demands that had been initially made by the Soviet commander.

He loudly sighed, knowing that he needed not a confirmation but perhaps a dissimilar perspective on a specific talent he had tried to cultivate and train up since before he had enlisted. He just hoped that David would be objective in his assessment, and not subjective.

It wasn’t something that he could talk to Steve, much less Peggy about. Peggy had been the one to help him further the ‘talent’ of reading people with a glance – but to talk to her would instantly reveal his hand. Philips orders to him had been explicit to not let Peggy know what he was doing.

“I think I read someone incorrectly at the meeting,” he stated. “Assumed the wrong things, interpreted actions incorrectly—”

“Michael Carter, right?”

Bucky blinked in surprise, staring at his friend in puzzlement. He hadn’t thought it was obvious—

“The OSS went through a tally of who was there when they were briefing the table and Captain Rogers,” David explained. “Mr. Stark and I just happened to listen in. They made no attempt to conceal it from us, and I recognized him when we got there.”

That answered a part of his question, but it still didn’t answer as to how David had immediately honed in on that name. Bucky had been extremely careful to not give away any signs that he was clearing Michael.

“I saw him once before, long ago,” David continued, but in a lowered tone and almost in a whisper. “In a pub that caters to… certain preferences...”

He saw the edges of David’s lips quirk up in a bitter smile. “I didn't know who he was back then. But, the bastard caught the attention of a lot of patrons there. Who could blame them? He’s handsome, tall, well-built, graceful, eloquent, confident—still is even after all that he’s gone through—”

Bucky saw and heard the ugly monster of jealousy as clear as day, even though night had long fallen. “David—” he began, but was interrupted.

“He’s hid it so well, but not from you Bucky. It’s why you’re having doubts about reading him correctly, isn’t it? There was a crack in the facade, the mirror-self that you’ve always told Em and I to cultivate, right? You’re always too sharp for anyone to fool.”

“Yeah, but—” he hesitatingly confirmed, hoping to placate whatever reason that had caused David to become jealous.

It looked for a moment as if David was going to go from his whispered words to shouting it, but Bucky saw and heard him heave a long, drawn out sigh. David was looking down at his feet, as he said, “By being his friend—Michael likes you in the same way I like you. And I’m afraid that he’s going to take you away—”

Two thoughts struck Bucky at once: firstly and more of a repeated refrain, his efforts to deter David’s crush on him while remaining his friend did absolutely nothing except to continue to fan the flames of that crush. Secondly, everything he had assessed thus far about Michael was erroneous.

He could not read Michael at all. It was with that thought that came a third one that made him uneasy: everything about Michael as an intelligence operative that Peggy had stated was true, and not an exaggeration.

If what David stated was true, then Bucky felt that he himself was potentially in and over his head in trying to make sure Michael was not a turned agent. Michael Carter was a fully trained and field-tested intelligence agent, whereas he, Bucky Barnes, was only a soldier. The only problem now, was how to confront Michael about what had happened in the locker room – without anyone else getting wind of it.

“Just because we’re friends?” he questioned, addressing the first issue – David sounding a little too possessive. There was no harshness in his tone, but there was a slight sharpness. “I’m friends with a lot of people here, David,” he continued, ignoring the hurt that flashed across his friend’s face. “I don’t see you getting worked up about it over anyone else.”

“I know,” the young engineer stated, looking back up, apologetic. “I just didn’t mean for it to sound that way. It’s just… It’s just… the two of you look like you fit together. Hand to glove. Even though I know your companionship tastes are not the same as mine. It’s just similar to how everyone sees just how good Captain Rogers and Agent Carter are together.”

“I can’t help you on this,” Bucky said, shaking his head slightly. “Michael is Peggy’s brother, and Peggy is Steve’s best girl. They’re all friends of mine. All I can advise you is to let it go before it consumes you.”

“I-I’ll try,” David answered. “Sorry about… everything… I’ll leave you to your thoughts, now. Good night, Bucky.”

“Good night,” he answered, turning back to watch the dimmed lights of London being slowly enveloped by fog.

Footsteps slowly shuffled away, but after a few minutes, they stopped. “Bucky?” he heard David quietly ask.

“Yeah?” he answered, turning slightly to see that David was at the door to the stairwell that led back down into the building that the SSR Headquarters took shelter underneath.

“What was the crack in the facade that made you begin to doubt?”

“Nothing big,” he lied. “Just something small enough for me to see.”

_Or not see, but feel... soft, warm lips—_

_Shut it._

“He slipped. You caught it. Don’t doubt yourself or your ability, Bucky. You’re still the second-best of us. Agent Carter is still the first.”

With that parting answer, David left. Bucky waited for a few seconds after the door to the rooftop was closed before looking back out towards the foggy London night. As much as he knew that that parting vote of confidence was an attempt to patch things up between the two of them, while making him feel better, Bucky didn’t feel any better.

In fact, he felt worse.

“I’m going up against a fully trained, field-tested agent who has done more work in the field than I have ever done,” he muttered to himself. “Second-best isn’t going to be enough. Not when I’ve had the wool pulled over my eyes.”

* * *

_River Thames, Vauxhall embankment..._

“This isn’t a date or to just watch me draw by lamp light, is it?”

Steve’s pointed question drew Peggy away from staring out towards the east side of London enveloped in fog. She turned and shook her head slightly before closing the distance. She had wondered if Steve ever brought her excuse to want to go with him to watch him finish the sketch he had started of the area. It now seemed that she had her answer.

“It’s all right,” Steve said, closing and tucking the sketch pad under his left arm. The pencil that he had been working with was tucked into a pocket within his uniform’s jacket. “I didn’t think that I had the right mind to finish the sketch tonight anyways. Too much going on to fully concentrate.”

“With what happened today and all,” Peggy began, but paused for a moment. She slipped into the right side of Steve and wrapped her left arm around him at the same time he enveloped his right arm around her.

“I’m surprised that Philips even allowed leave. Not just for you and the Commandos, but others as well. Jurisdictional distribution and everything else, it was a political mess,” she murmured, leaning against him.

“I’m surprised that he let you go with me,” Steve began, “but I’m glad he did. We spend far too little time together like this.”

Peggy couldn’t help but smile slightly at the amended statement. She found it absolutely endearing at just how much Steve stumbled with his words whenever he spoke to her – both privately and in public. He was learning to separate the two – professional and personal – and it made her glad that he could see that she did not wanted to be treated like delicate porcelain.

“We do,” she agreed.

The silence that fell between them was peaceful, and as much as Peggy wanted to let it linger and last forever, she knew that Steve was still waiting for her to tell him what was going on. She could feel it just by the way he was holding himself, even though he was allowing her to speak about it on her own terms.

“How do you feel about trying to solve a possible murder mystery?” she asked after a few minutes.

The chuckle of laughter rumbling from him was a welcomed sound as Peggy heard Steve say, “This isn’t the fog talking or influencing you? Or did Bucky lend you his collection of Sherlock Holmes stories that he managed to find, buy, and squirrel away in the barracks?”

She looked up at him, frowning slightly in mock anger, “I’ll have you know, Captain Rogers, that Mr. Holmes is a national hero—and that your best friend has impeccable taste in selecting excellent fictional, entertaining stories to read about.”

“All right, all right,” Steve answered, apologizing. “I’m sorry. I yield.”

Peggy couldn’t help but laugh with him, before a more serious atmosphere settled over the two of them. “I received a report from Scotland Yard a couple of days ago. They found the bodies of five soldiers along this embankment. The five soldiers had been among the prisoners we found in that cluster of facilities, but not from the facility where you and the others were. Coroner estimates put their time of death on the night of the 14th.“

As she expected, Steve’s reaction was to step away and draw his sketchbook out, flipping it to the drawing of the area he had been working on. The street lamp light that the two of them were standing under seemed to shine more harshly on the drawing.

“You saw this one labeled the 14th, and the area as well,” Steve began, frowning as he looked up and around.

“Can’t be a coincidence...” Steve began again after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t hear anything at all while I was here. But, I did run into a soldier who looked to be carrying a sack of bottles. Said he and his friends were just having some drunken celebratory fun. I didn’t think much of it, but...”

“Fun?” Peggy questioned, as Steve trailed off, his frown becoming more pronounced.

“He looked nervous. Didn’t want me to help him pick up the bottles he had spilled,” Steve continued, walking towards the ramp that would take them back up. Peggy followed him and knelt down when he did so in the middle of the ramp.

“Back when Bucky and I were sharing an apartment, we lived close to the Brooklyn Shipyards,” Steve began, reaching out and brushing his fingers over the damp ground, before rubbing his fingers together.

“Cheaper for rent and all that,” Steve continued after a moment. “Also, Bucky worked at the shipyards, so it was closer for him. He’d some times come home with a really noxious smell on his uniform. Kind of similar to airplane fuel mixed with the rotten-egg smell of sulfur. It was stuff you couldn’t really get rid of for a while, and something you didn’t ever forget.”

Peggy listened and followed Steve’s actions as he stood back up, this time facing down ramp, as he said, “For just a moment when the soldier spilled those bottles, I thought I smelled that same smell.”

“Strange,” she couldn’t help but state, wondering what was the connection, if any to the five dead soldiers.

“He came from this way,” Steve stated, going down the ramp. Peggy fished out the torch she had strapped to the back of her belt. Her fingers brushed across the holster for her Walther, but she didn’t draw that out just yet.

Shining the torch forward of where she and Steve were walking beyond the reach of the street lamp, she heard Steve murmur, “Stay close to me.”

There was no sense of danger just yet, but Peggy’s unease was growing. The stillness and a lack of breeze was contributing to it, as the fog along the Thames enveloped both of them. Only the sounds of the water lapping the bank seemed to cut through the fog – not even the traffic only a few hundred yards away from them did so.

Then a brief overwhelming smell filled her nose. It smelled absolutely awful. At the same time, Steve said, “There it is again.”

As terrible as it was, it seemed to disappear a moment later, leaving her slightly dizzy. She couldn’t help but stumble, causing Steve to turn back to help her. “I’m all right,” she said, as he helped her back up, giving him a reassuring nod. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, concern in his eyes. “We don’t have to do this. We can go back—”

“I smelled it the same as you did, Steve. There’s got to be some connection between the five, that soldier you encountered, and whatever that smell was,” she said, shaking her head slightly.

Before either of them could get another word out, the clear sound of a bottle breaking to the left of them shattered the relative silence. Peggy immediately turned her torch in the same direction, and briefly illuminated a soldier, who had froze as soon as the light hit him.

The soldier had been picking up the pieces of the shattered bottle, but a split second later, ran. For the first and only time in her life, Peggy was faster than Steve in reacting as she immediately ran after the soldier. Steve overtook her a couple of seconds later, but kept pace with her.

With her torch trained as best as she could on the fleeing soldier, the two of them raced after the soldier. The man reached another ramp that led up into the fog-covered streets. Just as Peggy saw Steve reach out to grab the soldier, the soldier slipped into the fog.

Steve stumbled, and Peggy reached him, splaying her hands and arms out to partially arrest his fall. They were now on the actual streets and no longer down on the shores, but the fog was too thick and soupy to see far ahead.

Even as Peggy held onto Steve, who was nodding to her that he was all right, she swung her torch this way and that. There was nothing except a wall of smoky white-grey, partially illuminated in places where a street lamp light could still almost be seen. No pitter-patter of feet running away could be heard at all – only the sounds of the Thames and honking of distant horns filled the silence.

“Where did he go?” she couldn’t help but murmur.

“I can’t see or hear anything unusual,” Steve answered, looking just as worried as she felt. “But I’m sure that that soldier was the same one I saw on the night of the 14th.”

“What?” Peggy questioned, looking at Steve in surprise. “But all of the soldiers we rescued have been deployed and are still in France.”

There was a hard look in Steve’s eyes, as he shook his head, saying, “I don’t like this Peggy. I don’t know what is going on, but I don’t like it at all.”

~~~

_At the same time, at SSR Headquarters..._

The never ending paperwork was a constant that Bucky wished would just go away – even during leave. Unfortunately, he could not rely on Steve this time around, to do the majority of the paperwork for the negotiations. Thus, he was stuck with it until it was done.

Bucky had stayed on the rooftop until he could not see the dimmed lights around St. Paul's Cathedral. The fog was thick and soupy tonight – much like the soup that had fallen on the city the last time the Commandos had been granted leave.

The thirty-six hours of leave was ticking, and Bucky knew that he was partially wasting the time that was given to him by completing paperwork. Yet, he couldn’t think up an excuse to find out from someone – anyone really – where Michael was at this time of night.

He could have asked Peggy, but by the time he had returned down to the underground base, she was gone. Obstinately, her not being here was because she was on a date of sorts with Steve.

As much as that thought cheered him, it made him ever more aware that he was completely unqualified to even figure out of Michael was a turned agent. He had wanted to march right up to Philips office and state that, but then the thought of what potential consequences that would happen had stopped him.

He had to do it – for Peggy and for Steve. He had to find out some way to wipe all doubts of Michael being a double agent from Philips’ suspicions. The problem was, was that he now needed to rethink his strategy.

Could he use his attempt at friendship with Peggy’s brother? Play on the sympathies of a fellow former prisoner of war? Use David’s potentially truthful revelation about Michael’s companionship preferences to his advantage—

“Sir.”

Bucky looked up, jolted out of his thoughts as he saw Emily standing before him, holding out a small envelope. It was also then he realized that he had partially cracked the pencil that he had used to write up his report.

“Emily,” he answered, placing the pencil down and reached over to accept the note.

“One of the secretaries from the processing pool on the second floor gave this to me,” Emily stated. “Said it somehow got circulated into their internal mail system.”

The envelope had his rank and surname typed up, along with the 107th name typed up, instead of the Howling Commandos. Inside, the note card was of a high-quality paper. There was a simple, single line written onto the note card: _Come at once if convenient – if inconvenient, come all the same._ It was unsigned.

“Looks like my patience for a particular book has come through,” he couldn’t help but say as he gave Emily a nod. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she chirped. In a whispered, more serious tone, she said, “and thank you for speaking with David. I know it had to have hurt, but I think it should’ve been done a long time ago. He’ll heal, and he’ll finally be able to move on.”

“I hope so,” he answered.

As much as he felt annoyed at David, he also felt sorry for the young man. He hadn’t meant to hurt his friend earlier, but what was done was done. There was no taking back the words – Bucky couldn’t anyways. He had to keep his promise to Steve – to be there until the end of the line.

_Hypocrite._

_Shut up._

“Before you leave, Emily, would you please give this to Colonel Philips when you get a chance?” he asked, putting the papers of his report together and into an empty brown folder. “It’s time I actually get out of this place and try to enjoy my leave.”

“Will do,” she answered, smiling as she took the folder and left.

As soon as the young code breaker disappeared around the corner, Bucky took a look at the note again. The address was the same, the handwriting definitely the same, but the weight and quality of the note card was completely different than what he had expected.

All of his assassination missions from Philips had been delivered in this manner. Enveloped note card with his name and 107 th  written upon it, with a single line from a Sherlock Holmes story, along with the address of the ‘bookstore’ that held his orders.

The handwriting was Lorraine’s own, and he doubted that she even knew why she was writing quotes onto a note card. The envelope was typed up elsewhere – that he knew, since he had asked Philips about the delivery method the first time he had received such a message.

But the card quality and weight for this particular one was different. It wasn’t until he turned the card over that he frowned slightly. All it stated in the back was an embossed, type-set of the ‘Savoy’.

Was Philips directing him to a high-profile target in light of what had happened during the negotiations and after it? The thirty-six hours granted to the Commandos was generous, and he knew that Philips was expecting him to utilize it to clear Michael, but Bucky did not put it past the SSR commander to amend or change orders.

There was no questioning it though – the other portion of the message and delivery system were the same. It was only the location that was different. If Philips was directing him to a target to assassinate in the middle of leave, he was going to carry out those orders.

Putting the note into a pocket, he got up and left. Outside, the streets were not that crowded, partially due to the fog, and mostly due to the time of night. As he walked down the streets, making his way to the expensive hotel, he glanced around. What little people were murmuring about were mostly about what was happening in France; how the liberation of city by city and town by town was slowly pushing back the German lines.

The walk to the Savoy was not long, but Bucky knew he could have shortened it by taking a taxi. As expensive as it was, he had preferred to go on foot – due in part to the note card not being completely compliant with what he was used to, in terms of receiving secret orders from Philips.

The door man at the entrance gave him a look of slight disdain as he approached, but nevertheless, let him through. He supposed that the door man was used to patrons of a better social class – or at least someone not ranked a lowly sergeant.

Inside, Bucky made his way to the front desk and presented the envelop and note card to the manager on duty. It was customary for him to present the set to the ‘bookstore’ owner, on entering the bookstore where the note card had come from. His actual orders were usually buried within a Sherlock Holmes book that contained the same line that was written into the note card.

The manager took a look at the card before returning it, and a key to him, saying, “I was told to tell you that you should take the stairwell marked ‘B’. Room 314 is the one you are looking for, sir.”

“Thanks,” Bucky answered, keeping the frown he wanted to show from appearing on his face. He wanted to ask who had given that order, but it was clear that the manager was only tasked to repeat what was told to him – most likely through a phone.

Walking further into the hotel, he spotted the stairwell door that was marked ‘B’ and headed towards it. Glancing behind him a moment, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. There were very few patrons up and about this late at night, and the manager on duty didn’t seem to pay him any more attention. Porters were standing by, but no one was looking at him in alarm.

Cautiously, Bucky entered the stairwell. It was empty, and though he wished he had thought to carry a sidearm with him, he dropped that thought away. He usually didn’t, since in the event the orders carried him to a pub, he didn’t want to have any drunken patron taking his sidearm from him and firing it.

All of the assassination orders he had been given to carry out during leave had been done either by hand, or creative usage of different materials. All secret orders given to him while in the field had been summarily carried out by sniper rifle – except for that one time where he had run into his target and had to kill him by knife.

Climbing up to the third floor, he cautiously made his way down the empty hallway, noting that the size of the rooms seemingly increased as the numbers increased. It was at the end of the hall that he finally encountered Room 314.

Bucky was slightly surprised when the key that the manager had given him opened the door with a simple click. Pushing the door open, he waited a few moments, letting the hallway lights spill into the room. He didn’t have to though, as the room seemed well-lit.

Entering, he closed the door behind him, but didn’t lock it. Bucky took a few steps into the room, and looked around. It was was enormous, looking more like a suite than a simple hotel room. It was the Savoy, and he supposed that such opulence was guaranteed to come with such a fancy hotel, but there was nothing that he could see within the room that was out of the ordinary.

What exactly had Philips sent him here for—

“I see you've gotten my message, Bucky.”

Bucky didn’t freeze so much he spun around, right hand going towards where his sidearm was supposed to be, until he realized that he was not carrying a gun. He aborted his action, but it was already too late – the person who had stated those words had seen him, seen his reaction. He had already put himself at a disadvantage with that single action against—

“Michael,” Bucky greeted as calmly as he could.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s shield still doesn’t obey the laws of physics… but I like having Steve toss it in destructively creative ways. Also, we’re finally beginning to get into the meat of the story. Apologies on the long set up – it had to be done to get all characters listed in the tags in place (including Shostakov).
> 
> It’s not supposed to be too obvious, but the aide that traveled with Shostakov is none other than Dr. Ivechenko (from the Agent Carter TV series), who aliased himself as Lebedev. In the comics, Lebedev was the first Red Guardian, while Shostakov was the second Red Guardian.


	5. By Any Means Necessary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have an in-depth chemistry background, so I apologize in advance if some certain things mentioned in this chapter aren't accurate.
> 
> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 1, Episode 12.

“Michael,” Bucky greeted as calmly as he could.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” Michael said, his tone and expression friendly. “Honestly, I tried to ask for a room 221B or something as close to that, to fit the note and all—”

“A little elaborate, just to call out a friend from the mole tunnels. I’m sure Philips had given the SOE a number to call. Or you could’ve just shown up at the door,” Bucky stated, keeping his tone casual. He dared not give away or confirm that the elaborate ‘breadcrumb’ was Philips’ way of sending him the secret assassination targets.

“Friends?” Michael questioned. “Is that what we are?”

Bucky heard the sharpness in that tone.

Even as reactionary as he had been only a few moments ago, he remained still and as relaxed as possible. There was no more friendliness in Michael’s expression; it had turned opaque and completely blank.

“Your reaction speaks volumes about you, Bucky,” Michael stated. “So I’m going to come right out and say it: I know that Colonel Philips has tasked you to keep an eye on me. He doesn’t trust me, even after I’ve gone through his battery of tests, been interrogated, and finally, forced to tell him and everyone else what had happened during my time in captivity.

“I feel awful about it, but I feel even more awful that he’s tasked you to do this. However, you’re his secret agent, the only one who barely has a connection to me – and even then, its tenuous. You’re probably wondering how I know about the breadcrumbs that your commander leaves you for your secret missions.

“Peggy didn’t tell me much about you, except for the little relevant things that relate to Steve. But after observing you for these past few days, it wasn’t difficult to extrapolate how Philips could potentially get orders to you without anyone else in the SSR being the wiser.”

Bucky remained silent. He could deny the truth, but it was completely useless – not in front of a highly-trained intelligence agent. He had never felt so vulnerable, or laid to bare as he did now.

He didn’t like it at all.

Instead, Bucky simply answered, “Peggy told me that your ability to read a room was legendary. I thought it was a myth. A story that little sisters who idolized their big brothers, tell others. I was wrong.”

He saw Michael nod, a sad smile stretching across his lips for a brief moment before saying, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done all of this.”

Michael gestured towards the room and whatever other rooms were adjoining the first one that looked like a sitting room. “I’m not sure exactly how to convince you, or rather Philips that I’m not a turned agent. This was the first thing that my thoughts came up with to convince you—”

“A hotel room at the Savoy?” Bucky couldn’t help but interrupt, incredulous.

“SOE put me up in the adjacent room until I can find my own accommodations,” Michael explained, looking slightly embarrassed – exactly how Peggy sometimes looked when she was flustered. “Being a part of the so-called ‘Churchill’s Secret Army’ does sometimes have its perks.”

Bucky felt his uncertainty grow for a moment. It was not because of Michael, but because he had heard of the so-called ‘Churchill’s Secret Army’. Like many others, he thought it was a myth – secret agents who had orders from the highest government officials in the war.

He hadn’t realized that the SOE _was_ Churchill’s Secret Army.

It would make sense as to why Peggy had stated that she had a favor held in trust at the Savoy during her days as an agent for the SOE. It was publicly known that Churchill himself held a lot of important war-effort meetings here with high-ranking officials.

Putting Michael here at the Savoy meant that the SOE did trust the agent, that Churchill himself trusted the agent. The only doubt that was left was Philips – for reasons Bucky still did not know. However, if HYDRA – or any other enemy entity – had turned him, had done something to Michael—

“Philips thinks that you’re a sleeper agent. That you might assassinate Churchill,” Bucky stated as the realization washed over him.

It made complete sense to him. Philips would be the only one who truly knew each and every agent under his command – either by personnel file, or by information that Lorraine collected. By that extension, Philips would also know of any relevant details of the agent’s friends and family.

Once again, Bucky felt ashamed of what he had done to nearly jeopardize the work that the SSR did, when he had been stymieing Lorraine’s duties by flirting with her. His own curiosity, his own selfish thoughts of _thinking_ that he was protecting Steve by doing what he did was wrong… so wrong.

“He’s right to assume that, you know,” Michael stated.

Bucky snapped his head up and saw Michael take a few steps forward, but did not close the relative distance between them. Michael was not attempting to cage him, and gave him room to see that he was not a threat.

Instead, the SOE agent gestured towards whatever room this sitting room led to, and said, “We can talk it over a meal, if you’re willing to stay. I’d like to try to have a chance to convince you and Philips by extension, that I’ve not turned. That I’m not going to assassinate my commander.”

“Over one meal?” Bucky asked, a little doubtful.

“I know it will take more than that,” Michael answered, giving him a slight smile. “It’s a work in progress that needs to be peeled back, layer by layer. In a way, I’m glad that Philips assigned you to this duty, but I’m also not. He assigned you because he sees you as a blunt instrument – a tool to be used to precisely cut or kill. An assassin he is cultivating to become as remorseless as possible. I don’t see you that way.”

Bucky’s guard went up again, slightly surprising himself that he even dropped it in the first place. The words were almost the same as what he had thought Philips saw him as. “And what do you see me as?” he ventured warily.

“Breathtakingly handsome,” Michael answered, the edges of his lips quirking up slightly. Bucky heard a definite flirting tone in that statement – confirming what David had revealed.

“But sad,” the SOE agent continued after a moment, his tone become more sympathetic. “Devoted, but lonely. Surrounded by friends, by family who love you, but still feeling alone in a world that mercilessly discriminates.”

Bucky looked away and turned towards the door. He did not need to hear this; not his innermost thoughts being spilled out by another—

“I know how it feels to be isolated; to hide so many secrets and put on such a facade that it ultimately becomes you,” Michael unexpectedly stated. “I know how it feels to watch someone you cherish and love above all else to walk down a path that is different from yours. To not be able to say those three words to that person and hear it whispered in your ear in return.

“I know how it feels, to try your damnest to protect the one you love, only to fail because help couldn't get there in time. I see you, and I see what you're doing. I know and understand something of how you feel. You're not alone.”

Bucky sighed and dropped his hand from the handle of the door. Turning slightly, he asked, “What happened?”

“He died during the evacuation at Dunkirk,” Michael answered. “Torpedo ripped apart the ship. I had grabbed his hand for a brief moment before the water rushed in. When I made it to the surface, all I had left was a part of his arm. I couldn't even work up the courage to tell his fiancee – not after that.”

“I'm sorry for your loss,” Bucky softly stated.

Even though he was not directly facing Michael, Bucky could hear the truth in his voice. Grief, genuine grief was incredibly difficult to fabricate and lie about. Every word that had been stated in that brief moment by Michael was the truth. Bucky couldn't help but feel a phantom knife twist itself in his stomach.

He couldn't imagine what he himself would do if Steve was killed in this damnable war.

He'd be alone, and that was a fate worse than death.

Realization gripped him, as he paused half-way in reaching for the handle of the door again. Michael had felt alone in the world since that day, even though it was clear that he had friends and family who had been overjoyed to hear and see that he was alive. There was a loneliness within Peggy's brother that seemed to echo the same as within Bucky; different yet similar to the loneliness that David had.

It was a shared, personal commonality he, along with David and Michael had... but to do _this_ was also an incredibly dangerous path to tread.

Yet, personal danger aside, Bucky found that he _wanted_ to clear Philips' suspicion over Michael – wanted Peggy's brother to walk around without a cloud of doubt hanging over him. Bucky didn't want to go back to Philips and confirm it, nor did he ever want to break the news to Peggy that Michael was a turned agent.

He couldn't do that to her – or to Steve by extension in hurting her.

“I'll stay,” Bucky said, turning around.

_Because I'm tired of being a hypocrite._

_Because I'll never be able to hear those three words from Steve. I already told Peggy that I had made my peace with it._

_Even if you're going to hurt David in the process?_

_He'll get over it._

_He never will._

_He'll have to, because I made a promise to be there for Steve until the end of the line._

_And Peggy?_

_Her as well. I have to protect Steve and Peggy, even if_ **this** _gets me killed._

“You're not my type, though,” he bluntly stated.

Approaching Michael, Bucky tried to not show his relief at the fact that the man still did not close the distance and merely opened an arm to gesture and lead them out of the sitting room of this suite. He followed him into what looked like a game room, where a small table for two had been set up. It was a little strange for him to be feeling this nervous.

The last time Bucky had felt this nervous had been his first date with a girl. That nervousness had stemmed from the fact that he didn't know what he was doing – even with his sisters' help. He only knew that he had to hide the secret part of himself so that the girl he went out with didn't suspect anything. Confidence and his skills at turning on the charm on command came later as he went on more dates with girls.

“Blonde, and light-colored eyes are your type,” came the light answer from Michael.

Bucky frowned a little. It was not because Michael had pulled out the chair at the table slightly and gestured for him to sit – just like what a proper English gentleman would do for a dame. It was slightly strange to be treated in such a manner.

Bucky sat and felt the chair being pushed in slightly, before Michael sat on the other side. “Peggy told me as much as she was allowed to, about the Commandos,” the SOE agent stated. “Based on what she said about the numerous amount of women you've flirted within the SSR itself, that was the conclusion I came up with. Your type is blonde and light-colored eyes.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he blandly stated, deciding to keep it light enough so that he was able to exert some control over his nervousness.

The half-laughter that emerged from Michael's mouth sounded genuine. The next few minutes were spent in silence to the clinking of silverware on china as they ate, though Bucky didn't have much of an appetite.

There was no falsities that Bucky could even detect as he heard Michael say after a few minutes, “But from what Peggy told me, I'd have to say that not many of the women at the SSR had much of a personality. You most likely thought that almost all of them were shallow.”

“If that's your idea of flirting with me, that's terrible,” Bucky stated, glancing up as he poked his barely touched food with a fork. “It sounds more like analysis.”

The minutes he had taken to just slowly eat a few bites and process what happened in the past few days had given him a sense of calm. His confidence in what he was doing was not quite there yet, but there was no sense in delaying the inevitable that he knew he had to take to clear Michael above suspicion.

“I want to earn your trust first,” came the surprising answer from Michael. “Besides, I've never been too good at this.”

Bucky gave him a skeptical look. “Your actions in the locker room say otherwise.”

“And now you know a truth from a lie, from me,” Michael answered.

Bucky saw Michael place his fork and knife down, and fold his hands together. “I’ll say it again: I know Colonel Philips doesn't trust me – not because I was a prisoner of HYDRA for such a long time, but because I was... am a SOE agent who was a prisoner of HYDRA. I know he's tasked you to keep an eye on me, to make sure that I'm not going to sabotage, or do anything to hurt the war effort.

“I know all of this because it's something that I'd do in his shoes. I'd task my best secret agent for the job, and tell him to do whatever it took to vet a formerly captured and rescued agent. And it certainly wouldn't be my personal spy masquerading as a secretary, or my second-in-command. That would cause too many to be suspicious.”

There were potentially two ways that Bucky knew he could respond to Michael's frighteningly accurate assessment. Nevertheless he knew that there was really only one way to respond. The other way would just lead to complete distrust from both of them.

Bucky placed his utensils down. It was time to confront the truth and get it out, so that there was nothing clouding either of their actions, now and in the future. He needed as blunt of a statement as he could get, from Michael.

“So you thought that flirting or even kissing me in that locker room would do the trick? For all I've heard about you from your sister, you're not one to make mistakes like that,” he stated.

“That's my mistake to bear,” Michael answered, glancing away for a moment, cheeks briefly coloring red before looking back at him. “You looked as if you were faltering before that break was called for. All I had wanted to say to you then was a simple 'good luck'. My self-control seemed to have failed. I'm sorry for putting you in danger on impulse.”

Bucky remained silent for a few moments. The statement was as blunt as he knew that he could get – and he now knew a genuine truth about Michael. It would be easy to say that he accepted or denied the apology, even with the genuine earnestness he heard in Michael's tone. But either would just encourage Michael to do it again on impulse, especially if he, Bucky, was committed to going down this path just to clear Michael.

“I'll accept the apology, but only if you promise not to do that again on a whim,” he said at last.

A grin split Michael's lips as he saw him nod. Nevertheless, a moment later, that grin turned slightly mischievous as Bucky heard him ask, “What if I ask you first? Get your permission... say when its just the two of us in a room alone. With no fear of anyone walking in.”

Bucky nearly groaned in exasperation, but settled for sighing. He should have not put conditions on that statement of acceptance – it was his own damn fault that he walked right into that word trap. Yet, he also knew that it was a way to continue to allow Michael to continue to earn his trust – to see just how willing he was to stick to his convictions.

The fact that Michael was asking permission was also telling.

He knew that someone as bold and as confident as Michael usually did not ask permission for anything. They just did what they wanted to do, consequences be damned. Even if his assumptions on Peggy's brother in the past few days were erroneous, Bucky knew that some of it was still relevant. Michael had enough of a charisma to get away with some relatively small but impact actions.

Those types of people were people that Bucky knew that Steve did not like – the ones who forcibly took what they thought was theirs, right or wrong. They were bullies, simple as that. And Bucky didn't like people like that either.

But people changed – Bucky had seen it firsthand with Steve leading and inspiring scores of soldiers and civilians around him. Steve was a force of good, of justice, and freedom for all. Had Peggy's brother been influenced by Steve to want to change? Or was Michael never a 'bully' and the two of them had just got off on the wrong foot?

“I want to get to know the real you,” Bucky stated. “Not the agent hiding behind the masks, not the overprotective brother—”

“I don't believe that I'm overprotective, when I recommended Peggy to the SOE,” Michael protested.

“That's the shittiest lie I've ever heard, coming from you,” Bucky continued, shaking his head slightly. “You have a younger sister, and I have three. I know what it's like to watch sisters grow up, surrounded by wolves. Peggy joined the SOE because you died, and she realized that you were right about her fiance. She joined because of you – for you.”

Silence answered him for a few moments before Michael nodded, saying, “All right, I'll give you that. I am a little overprotective. But only when it comes to making sure my sister gets every opportunity in life that's possible.”

Michael paused for a moment. “So you want to get to know the real me. May I demand the same of you?”

“Peggy told me that your skills in reading a room were near legendary,” he answered. “Don't you already have me read like a book?”

“As an intelligence agent and field operative, yes,” was Michael's frank answer. “As a person I find intriguingly attractive outside of the work we both do, no.”

_By any means necessary, Barnes._

Philips' orders to him echoed in his thoughts. Bucky knew that he could flatly deny it, but he was tired of being a hypocrite – to himself. There was a bleakness he saw with each mission, each assassination, each time he walked away on a 'much deserved' leave. The only thing that kept him going was that he was fighting for—

_For Steve... for Peggy—no._

_I do hope that someday, you will find some happiness for yourself, Barnes._

Maybe Falsworth was right. Steve was already able to stand on his own two feet in life, even if there were still a few stumbles to work out. Though their promise to each other still held true and close to Bucky's heart, perhaps it was time to begin to let go – to not be a hypocrite of his own words that he had stated to David hours earlier.

“All right,” Bucky said, standing up and going over to where Michael sat. He extended a hand out and said, “Hey. I'm James Barnes. Friends call me Bucky. Nice to meet you.”

“Michael,” Michael answered, also standing up and shaking his hand with a genuine smile on his face. “Michael Carter. Pleasure to meet you.”

* * *

_SSR Headquarters..._

“Howard, are you still here?”

Steve followed Peggy down the stairs to the engineering laboratory. Her not-quite shout had attracted the attention of those engineers still awake, as heads turned towards her. Before they got to the bottom of the stairs, Steve saw Howard's protege, David, approach. Seeing that there was someone attending to them, the other engineers returned to their work.

Steve found it slightly amusing yet disconcerting that the behavior of the engineers reminded him of how a particular herd of cats behaved. That particular feral herd had taken shelter in the Shipyards one winter, and had merely watched the workers with little to no interest. Sure they kept the mice away for that particular winter, but Steve remembered Bucky telling him that the only time the herd had feigned great interest was when a stray dog had run into their territory.

“He's just left about a half-hour ago, Agent Carter,” the young engineer stated. “He's staying over at the Savoy for an early morning briefing with the Prime Minister and Colonel Philips. Would you like me to contact the hotel?”

Steve caught Peggy's glance over at him before shaking her head slightly, and returned her attention to David. They both knew that Howard had been tasked to analyze what was left of the mysterious HYDRA aircraft that had swooped over the meeting site. His friend was most likely quite busy. The foul but mysterious smell, and soldier who should have already been deployed were not a priority compared to what had happened earlier in the day.

“No, it's fine, David,” Peggy answered.

Before Steve could step away though, Peggy asked, “By chance, would you have some time to help us, David?”

Strangely, the request seemed to brighten then young engineer. “Yes,” David enthusiastically stated. “Would you like Emily to help as well?”

“Yes, please,” Peggy answered, nodding in agreement. “I still have a few tasks to complete for today's actions, but I'm sure that Emily would enjoy a change of pace in her duties.”

Steve didn't mind the fact that Peggy was handing off the investigation to her own protege, even as she apologized saying, “I'm sorry Steve—”

“It's all right,” he gently interrupted her.

He could never get angry at Peggy. They both knew that after what had been discussed and agreed upon with Shostakov, and HYDRA's attempt to frighten them today, Philips needed his best agent on point. Once HYDRA was defeated and the war ended, there would be plenty of time for him and Peggy to spend together.

“I'll brief Emily on what happened. If you would please, Steve?” Peggy asked.

Steve nodded in agreement – he would brief David on what had happened. He hoped the young man would be able to provide some insight even without going to the site. It was a moot point to go back at the moment – light rain had already begun to sweep into the area shortly after their chasing of the soldier had ended. That light rain had also swept away whatever had been left at the area where they had encountered the soldier.

“Fresher eyes in the morning would help as well,” he stated. It was a stretch to think perhaps they would be able to find something in the morning, but stranger things had happened before.

Peggy merely nodded before placing a comforting hand on his arm for a moment. She left without another word. Even before she had fully ascended the steps, Steve had silently indicated that they should talk somewhere a little more private.

He followed David into the room where the glass had been shattered with Howard's first experiment with HYDRA's weapons. Without any preamble, he said, “Do you happen to know what kind of compound or usage something that smells like a cross between airplane fuel and the rotten-egg smell of sulfur?”

The young engineer shook his head before saying, “The rotten-egg smell is most likely hydrogen sulfide. It's already quite corrosive and flammable on its own. I'm not sure, and pardon the expression, why fuel is being added to the fire, by mixing both. The two mixed together should have already created an explosion.”

“Yet both times I've smelled such a smell at the Vauxhall embankment, nothing happened,” Steve said, frowning slightly. “It was just for a moment though, before the smell evaporated. Both times, there was the sound of a bottle breaking, but no residuals from the bottles.”

“If you'll forgive me for a moment, but with it being so damp and misty these past few days, it may be difficult to collect any evidence there, sir,” David stated. “A person was holding the mixture, correct?”

“A soldier,” Steve answered, nodding as the frown on his face got a little deeper. “Who should have been deployed to France with his unit on the 15th. It seems that he didn't.”

“Was he wearing any gloves of the sort?” David asked, frowning as well.

“No. The first time I saw him, he had dropped a sack of bottles. Said he and his friends were celebrating,” Steve said. “Second time was earlier tonight, except that he managed to disappear into the fog just as I reached him.”

The young man was silent for a few moments before gesturing for him to follow. They went back out into the labs, and David led him to a small corner where Steve saw modifications being done to not only the pistol that he used, but also to Bucky's sniper rifle, and DumDum's Thompson.

From the neat and orderly appearance of how things were laid out, Steve could only assume that this area was where David worked. It complemented the neat, fresh, and orderly appearance of the young engineer himself – a complete contrast to the chaos on the other side of the laboratory that was Howard's area.

“Handling something that volatile without any gloves should have put the soldier in the hospital,” Steve heard the young engineer murmur, before seeing him pick up a domino mask near the guns.

“This could potentially help, but it is headache inducing, sir,” David stated, holding out the mask to him. “Mr. Stark hadn't had time to integrate what little test results or the materials into the binocular lenses.”

Steve shook his head, as he remembered the mask being used by Bucky in Estonia. It had been how his best friend had been able to see a 'ghostly' image of Marta at the HYDRA facility. Marta had been completely rendered invisible by HYDRA advanced technology, until Bucky managed 'see' her using the domino mask, and destroy the invisibility module she had had on her.

“If that soldier is the same, then he'll most likely be more cautious after running into me twice,” Steve stated. “I think we're going to need to approach this from another angle.”

“I have a few ideas, sir—” David began.

“But it will take time,” Steve finished for him, nodding in understanding. “Then I'll meet you tomorrow morning at the Vauxhall embankment?”

“Yes,” the young engineer enthusiastically stated, looking happy that he was doing something else other than whatever he had been working on, with the firearms.

Steve decided to leave it alone. There had been times where he remembered Howard being incredibly frustrated that a piece of experimental equipment was not working properly. Perhaps David was encountering the same thing, with whatever experimental improvements he had been making to the pistol, sniper rifle, and semi-automatic rifle.

“And David,” he said, bringing up the other thing that he had forgotten to tell the young man earlier in the day. “You don't need to keep calling me 'sir'. You're one of Bucky's friends, and therefore my friend as well. 'Steve' will suffice, all right?”

For a moment, Steve saw a strangely regretful look of hurt appear on David's face. As quickly as it appeared, it disappeared, and was replaced by a more pleasant expression. “All right, si-Steve,” the young man said.

* * *

_Early next morning..._

Bucky woke up with a start, snapping his eyes open.

The last vestiges of a dark terror that had gripped him faded away, only to be replaced by an unfamiliar-looking ceiling. Or rather, the ceiling of a luxurious canopy bed. He blinked in confusion, almost vaulting himself out of the too-soft, and too-large bed before he realized where he was.

He was in the Savoy; in the suite where the message written as a quote from a Sherlock Holmes story had led him to. Instead of an assassination mission from Philips that such messages usually contained, it was an invitation – from Michael Carter, no less.

What followed that invitation was not what Bucky had expected. It was a chance to talk, to genuinely get to know Peggy's brother. He himself had been called out by Michael on the fact that Michael knew that Philips did not trust him at all. Instead of continued mistrust or anger, there was instead, a want, a need to convince Philips that he, Michael, was not a turned agent. It was by proxy of him, Bucky.

“ _It's getting late. The room is yours to stay in, if you want to. I won't stop you from leaving, if that is your choice, Bucky. I want to earn your trust, and I hope that I've made some inroads in that tonight.”_

The room had been paid for the night by Michael, but that was not the primary reason why Bucky had stayed. It had been extremely late – to the point where his leaving the Savoy in his uniform no less, would have sparked rumors and questions among the staff.

Bucky was well aware enough that perhaps the staff didn't know who had rented Room 314. But also aware enough to not want to make it look like he was a dumb American soldier moonlighting as a rent boy for some wealthy patron.

He didn't state that to Michael though, and only stated that it would be a welcomed change in scenery instead of the barracks at the SSR. He had seen Michael's want to make a sly innuendo of sorts, but the SOE agent had strangely stopped himself. In light of some surprising revelations and a few confirmations of assumptions about Peggy's brother last night, Bucky wondered why Michael had stopped himself.

Sighing, Bucky pushed the troubling thoughts to the side – that was the least of his worries. He knew that he still didn't have enough to go back to Philips to clear Michael from suspicion. He could state his opinion on Peggy's brother to his commander all that he wanted, but it would be a wasted effort at the moment.

It was clear to him now that this was a long-term mission; an assignment not unlike something similar that Peggy had done to make sure that he himself was not a threat to the SSR. It would only end when Philips ordered it. Yet, Bucky was determined to become actual friends with Michael.

_Perhaps more than—_

Bucky stopped that thought where it was and roughly shoved it to the side. It was much too early to be thinking such a thought, as he still wasn't sure exactly if he was ready to go down that extremely dangerous path. Evidence – at least to himself – of his uncertainty in that particular line of thought had manifested when Bucky had studiously avoided answering Michael's permission-seeking question.

He stopped his thoughts again, using the physical action of getting out of the too-soft and too-large bed, to focus on the now. He went to go clean himself up, marveling at the luxuriousness of a bathroom and hot shower all to himself. It felt like ages ago that he had his own privacy within a bathroom or shower.

He hadn't brought a change of clothes, but as Bucky finished cleaning himself up, he didn't think his uniform's shirt smelled too foul. The wool trousers and jacket certainly still smelled like smoke from the cigarettes he had burned on the rooftop last night. It would just be a relatively short walk back to the SSR to go change into something cleaner, as he thought about what he was going to do for the rest of his leave time.

Closing up the suite, he knocked on the door to Michael's room. He wasn't sure if the SOE agent had any plans for the day, or had any assignments, but he wouldn't put it past Michael's commander to put the agent straight to work. There had been a lot of things that had happened during the negotiations. Bucky was sure that the SOE, along with the other organizations would be carrying out the results from the meeting.

There was no answer at the door.

Knocking twice more, Bucky waited for a few minutes before shrugging and walked down the hall. Michael was most likely at work, and thus, Bucky would most likely not see him until random happenstance again. He would have to go back to Philips and report on the progress, but at least he now knew and understood why Philips gave him this assignment.

At the end of the hall, Bucky didn't take the stairwell, but instead, walked out into the hall that overlooked the vast atrium. The murmurs of conversation and tinkling of silverware and china floated up from the atrium. It was early, but it appeared that more than a few guests liked to take their breakfast early.

Bucky stopped at the edge and looked out and across to the other side of the hotel. As his eyes roamed across the peacefulness of the area, he couldn't help but smile. He could almost imagine that there was no war going on, if he closed his eyes, and just listened to the gentle murmurs floating up.

However, something curious caught his attention, as he looked down at the hotel guests tucking into their morning meal. A wider smile tugged on the edges of his lips as he saw the reason why Michael was not answering: the SOE agent was having breakfast with Peggy.

~~~

Peggy sipped her coffee as she watched her brother take a quick look at the note that the waiter had given him, before tucking it into a pocket. Though he was wearing the uniform of the British armed forces, the rank and pins that she remembered seeing on the uniform so long ago were not present. She didn't ask him why they were missing, but it seemed that he didn't mind the lack of honors he had earned – before he had been captured.

Instead, there seemed to be a much lighter, almost happier look about him. Only a few days had passed since she had seen him walk into the SOE building, but it looked as if what had happened during the negotiations with Shostakov had invigorated him.

“What do your eyes see, Pegs?”

Peggy smiled behind the cup of coffee before putting it down. “You look happier. Much happier than I've ever seen you,” she stated. “And you don't look as exhausted as you did at the manor.”

She saw the lightness in his eyes die just slightly at her mention of his lack of good sleep when they had been visiting their parents. He had tried to brush it off as just being unable to sleep on such a soft bed, but Peggy didn't buy the excuse. It was only when their parents were out of earshot that she managed to get him to open up a little about the nightmares that had been plaguing him since his rescue.

“It's not the bed in the room,” he stated, giving her a faint smile that she knew was only to reassure her that he indeed, managed to get some semblance of a good night's sleep. “I just had some good company before I went to sleep.”

“I'm glad,” Peggy said, grasping his hand in reassurance.

She did not need her brother to elaborate on whatever his 'company' had been. He was healing, and however he chose to do it was enough for her. Long ago, she would have been curious, but since beginning her work for the SOE and SSR, she learned that there was some comfort for active agents, such as the two of them, to have some secrets they kept to themselves.

“You look like you could've used some sleep yourself,” Michael said a few moments later, grinning. “Stay up late 'dancing' with Steve? I heard a rumor that the Commandos were granted leave for thirty-six hours...”

Peggy withdrew her hand, giving her brother a partially appalled look in response to his unsaid suggestion and implications as to what might have happened. “Oh, hush you,” she spluttered as she felt herself turning red with embarrassment. She hadn't been teased by her brother like that since before he had been deployed.

Michael's response was to widen the grin until he couldn't hold back his chuckle anymore. “I'm sorry Peggy,” he apologized a few moments later. “I shouldn't have made fun of you or Steve like that.”

“Apology accepted,” she said, smiling as well.

Peggy considered telling her brother about what she and Steve had found at Vauxhall, but given that she had seen a serious expression briefly eclipse his face when looking at the note, she decided not to. The note was most likely orders or something of that nature, regarding SOE business. Vauxhall could wait, as there were a few reports that Peggy wanted to requisition from Scotland Yard.

At the thought of what she needed to do today in addition to her duties, she glanced up to look at the grandfather clock at the fall wall. “Unfortunately though, I have to go now,” she apologetically stated.

“And I have work to do,” her brother answered, nodding in understanding. “Tomorrow, same time?”

“Yes,” she answered. “If circumstances permit.”

“I promise, Peggy, I won't leave without telling you. I already told Fred that. It was the one condition that I requested before the Foreign Office re-commissioned me,” Michael stated.

Peggy knew that she shouldn't ask, but she was rather curious. After she had walked away from her engagement – only a week away from her wedding day – she had seen Fred once thereafter; until now. It had been when she had been in SOE training, that Fred had shown up at the obstacle course. Her former fiance had taken one look at her, before leaving without a word.

“H-how is he? How is Fred?” she hesitatingly asked.

“As well as circumstances permit him to be,” her brother answered in a decidedly neutral tone.

“Good,” she said, half murmuring the words to herself as she nodded. “Good.”

Seeing that there was no reason to stay or delay what she needed to do at the SSR today, she got up. Michael rose at almost the same time. Embracing her brother before letting go, Peggy bade farewell and left.

~~~

“And here you are, accusing me of being a twelve-year-old.”

Bucky turned slightly from where he had been staring at a rather large oil-on-canvas portrait of some person dressed in colonial clothing. He couldn't help but faintly smile at the comment that Michael had made.

It had not been his intent to explore more of the luxurious hotel, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. He had been careful to avoid the staff, slipping in and out of stairwells and alcoves. He didn't want to be questioned as to why he was wandering the hotel, looking lost or like a tourist.

Yet, Bucky did wonder how Peggy's brother managed to find him here – a ways away from where Michael's temporary room was. He hadn't even heard the SOE agent approach.

“Do you have plans for the day?” Michael unexpectedly asked a few moments later.

“No,” he truthfully answered.

“Would you be willing to keep me company?” Michael asked.

Bucky blanched for a few seconds, before hearing the belatedly appended, “on an assignment in Whitechapel.”

As briefly as he considered that the pause between the invitation to keep Michael company, and where and what they were doing, being deliberately dropped, Bucky brushed the thought aside. He had heard the slightly teasing tone in the request – the flirty implication – and was slightly puzzled as to what may have brought it on again.

“Are agents allowed tag-a-longs?” he couldn't help but ask.

The Commandos usually tried to get any civilians they encountered in the field out of harm's way. Though Bucky was a soldier, he was on leave and considered 'civilian' for the moment. He also was unsure as to how Michael's commander would react if it was known that Michael let a member of the SSR accompany him on what clearly was a SOE mission.

“You want to get to know the real me, this is how you do it,” Michael stated. “I can spin up stories about my life, or talk your pretty ears off all night. But I'd rather show you who I really am, and what I do.”

_By any means necessary, Barnes._

“If it's not going to get you in trouble, then sure,” Bucky answered after a moment's consideration.

~~~

_River Thames, Vauxhall Embankment..._

It was quite evident that the light rain and tides had washed whatever had been here away. Yet, Steve's eyes still carefully roamed the area where Peggy's flashlight had lit up the soldier. The crunching noise of footsteps approaching caused him to briefly look up and to his left to see David and Emily approach.

Though it was still early in the morning, it seemed that the two were not bothered by such an early wake-up call. Late last night, he had escorted Peggy home to her apartment. During their walk, they had discussed what little information they had, and Steve had told her of David's information concerning the compounds.

Peggy had told him that she would put in a requisition with Scotland Yard to see if there were any additional information to be had. Steve had found out then, that Peggy was about to put off her breakfast appointment with her brother so that she could get in and out early at the Yard's headquarters.

Knowing just how worried she had been for her brother, Steve had gently told her to go to her breakfast appointment. Considering how busy Scotland Yard usually was, and the uncertainty of just how critical this 'investigation' was, Steve was of the mind that Scotland Yard would get to the request in due time.

At the present, Steve greeted David and Emily with a kind, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, sir,” Emily said, unexpectedly dropping into a curtsy for a brief moment. That caused David to laugh a little, as Steve saw the young man set down the satchel he was carrying on the ground and began to fish out whatever he needed for analysis.

“Please, Emily, it's just Steve. It's like I told David here yesterday. You're both friends of Bucky, and therefore friends of mine,” Steve said, smiling.

Emily's reaction was to color slightly pink as she nodded. Strangely though, David's reaction was the same as what Steve had seen yesterday – a hurt look that was mixed with regret – appearing ever so briefly. Steve couldn't help but briefly wonder if there had been an argument of sorts between Bucky and the young engineer.

Steve knew that his best friend sometimes had a short temper, but was usually good at keeping it in check and unleashing it only on HYDRA. Whenever he and Bucky got into arguments, they usually apologized to each other quite quickly. But that usually happened after they either yelled at each other until they were both hoarse, or one of them abruptly walked away.

Whatever this was, it was clear to Steve that Bucky had spent the night somewhere else in London. He knew that Bucky would usually not let harsh words thrown to a friend sit without apology, especially over a night. It was not like Bucky to do such a thing, and that was one of the many things Steve greatly admired about his best friend.

As much as he wanted to intervene on behalf of Bucky, Steve held himself back just this once. There were a little more pressing issues to worry about at the moment, and it looked as if whatever argument Bucky and David had had, was not affecting the young engineer that much.

Steve showed them the area where the flashlight had lit up the soldier, and where he and Peggy had thought they seen the remnants of whatever the soldier had dropped. David brought out a small instrument that looked like a black rod of sorts, connected to what looked like one of the cartridges that powered HYDRA weapons.

Armed with small vials and corks, both Steve and Emily were tasked by David to collect various samples above the waterline. It was slim, but Steve thought that perhaps there was something in Howard's lab that could analyze sediment and other things. It seemed that David thought so as well, as he briefly watched the young engineer pan the black rod over a patch on the ground.

“The soldier you sketched goes by the name of Henry Jackson,” Emily stated after a few minutes of silence. “Private, drafted on the 12th of January, 1943 in Indiana. He jumped with the rest of his battalion into Normandy. According to his and those of his company that survived, they were supposed to have jumped into the Omaha site, but landed too far south. That is how he and his company got captured. Analyses of where they had landed pointed to somewhere near Carentan.”

“But HYDRA wasn't in Carentan,” Steve pointed out, frowning slightly. “We didn't get any intelligence reports before or after that HYDRA was anywhere near Normandy and the objective towns.”

Emily nodded in agreement. However, just as she was about to continue, David suddenly exclaimed, “I may have found something si-Steve!”

Both he and Emily went over to where David was, crouched near the initial area Steve had pointed out. It was above the tide line, but the dampness of the rocks around the area showed that the area had not escaped the light rain. However, one of the rocks had been overturned, revealing a dry spot that was lighting up in a shade of blue-white.

When David drew the rod away, Steve saw that the small smear of substance was actually a dark, drab color. “What is that?” he couldn't help but ask.

“Black light,” David answered, waving the rod. “It helps illuminate certain compounds that may not be detectable by the eye. What I found may be a remnant of the source of the smell. The mixture of airplane fuel and rotten-egg sulfur. I believe that what was found could be a natural-gas condensate. Blue-white is the color it usually turns when it fluoresces under black light. It usually contain impurities, such as hydrogen sulfide.”

“It's a start,” Steve said, not quite understanding all of what said, but enough that he knew that they had a potential lead. “Is it possible to narrow down where this may have come from?”

“Foundries?” Emily guessed.

There was a frown on David's face, as he studied the underside of the rock again, before waving the black light rod over the tiny smear again. “Shipyards more like it. Heavy machinery and all. But they usually ensure that siphoning cannot happen.”

Steve nodded in agreement. From what he knew of what Bucky did at the Brooklyn Shipyards, fuel used to operate the heavy machinery were kept under strict guard. Yet, there was always a stop point, a delivery point— “Do you have any idea as to where people might route any excess shipment of this to?” he asked.

“Whitechapel,” David stated, standing up at the same time Steve and Emily did as well. “My father used to work at the Limehouse Basin, and he'd tell me that excess shipments usually ended up somewhere in Whitechapel under the guard and care of Scotland Yard.”

“Then to let's go to Whitechapel,” Steve stated.

* * *

_Whitechapel District..._

Never in a million years did Bucky think he would be standing near the edges of a crowd that had openly gathered in the streets to listen to an _anarchist_ of all people. What little of his childhood he remembered growing up in the area did have him recalling scores of people gathered in various pubs and other buildings inside to listen to people talk.

Of course, he had been a very young boy back then, and didn't remember much of what was said. All he really recalled was that there were a lot of strange words being thrown around by people who looked downtrodden. At the present, the appearances of the people who lived and passed through Whitechapel didn't seem to have changed much.

Yet, an open forum with an anarchist in the streets still shocked him – Scotland Yard was usually quick to put down any seditious words spoken in public. But Bucky knew that he should haven't been as surprised as he was – recent V-weapon attacks had destroyed many of the buildings here. What buildings were left was already overflowing with people seeking shelter. Those who had the means, had already evacuated.

At the present though, it seemed that everyone standing in the crowd was listening to the anarchist's words with rapture. Some were even nodding and murmuring agreements. It had not escaped Bucky's notice that even Michael had been nodding and voiced some words of agreement out loud.

With both of them dressed in drab clothing that matched those here, they fit right in. Both of them had changed into disguises before coming here. Their disguises had been drawn from the rather massive arsenal of clothing that was available for the SOE agent's usage. It was then, staring at the closet of clothing that went from beggar poor, to rich aristocrat, that Bucky began to realize what exactly Michael did as an SOE agent.

Peggy's brother was not just an agent sent out into the field to collect information behind enemy lines. Michael Carter was a chameleon amongst the people – able to blend in, charm, get a target talking, and slip away without any trouble. It was why Bucky initially had trouble trying to clear Michael – the man had done just enough to cause him to doubt himself. Now though, Bucky could see Michael for who he truly was – someone dedicated to protecting his country – even if it meant feigning interest and agreement with an anarchist.

As much as Bucky wanted to pull the borrowed cap down his head some more, he didn't. He remained where he was, trying to pretend that he had some interest in what the anarchist was saying. It was taking all of his own will and then some more not to march right in there and openly argue with the anarchist. Standing here with Michael by his side, was as much of a vetting on the SOE agent, as it was a learning experience for Bucky.

Sudden movement out of the corner of his left caused him to turn his head slightly, only to see Michael leaning towards him, closer than what he was comfortable with – in public. “We need to leave now,” the SOE agent stated, breath warm against Bucky's cold left ear. “Bobbies are coming. Turn slowly to the right and edge your way out. **Walk** calmly away. I'll be a few seconds behind you.”

Bucky didn't even acknowledge the order with a nod of his head. He just did as told and a few seconds later, was clear and free of the crowds. A few more moments after that, as he began to walk down the sidewalk, he felt Michael's hand briefly clap him on the back, as the man himself appeared on his right.

“What about the others?” he asked.

“I'm usually their signal that something is wrong,” Michael stated. “The group that the speaker runs with was one of my tickets in, during a mission that brought me to eastern France. That speech that we just heard was nothing, compared to the rhetoric that I've heard and experienced.”

 _And most likely exploited to destabilize Nazi control over that region_.

“You've been gone for over two years,” Bucky pointed out. “What makes them continue to trust you?”

“Nothing,” the SOE agent answered. “They never did trust me. Only that I had no interest in getting caught by Scotland Yard – same as they do. Keep calm and carry on, and the Yard's dogs won't sniff you out.”

“Shared self-preservation,” Bucky murmured, just as the far away shouts of London's police force in the district began to echo down the street. Just as he was about to say another murmured comment in the quiet conversation they were having, Bucky thought he saw someone strange to his left.

Stopping, Bucky turned slightly and peered down into the crowded alleyway—there! His instincts had been right, but with it came worry and some concern. The old man that he saw, picking his way through a knot of people was no doubt Alexei Shostakov's aide, but what—

“What's the concern?” Michael asked, startling Bucky out as he briefly glanced over to see Michael looking down the same alleyway as he did.

Bucky returned his attention to the alleyway, but Shostakov's aide was not there—no, the man had just turned the corner. He immediately set off, while roughly whispering, “Major Creighton stated that Shostakov and his aide could make contact with their submarine once an all-clear was given right?”

“Yes,” Michael began, tugging slightly on his sleeve to slow him down slightly. “I was told that Shostakov and his aide have already left.”

“By who?” Bucky asked, stopping at an intersection and looked whichever way for any sign of Shostakov's aide.

“Via note,” the SOE agent stated. “It's similar to how your commander secretly communicates. Is he still here?”

“I don't know,” Bucky said, shaking his head for a moment before his eyes caught the parting of two strangers walking past each other, and Shostakov's aide further down the alleyway they were currently facing. “But that man down there—” Bucky briefly pointed to the man who turned yet another corner “—is Shostakov's aide.”

Without another word, he hurried down the alleyway, trying his best not to break out into a run, and shoving civilians out of the way. Philips already had his doubts about Shostakov, and considering everything that had happened, Whitechapel was the last place Bucky expected to see the Soviet commander or his aide.

Just what the hell were they doing here, especially with Shostakov's aide looking all shifty-like?

“Hey, stop running!” he heard Michael hiss in his ears and attempt to grab his clothing to slow him down again.

But Bucky was having none of it, and continued to hurry after the aide, who just seemed to slip out of reach every time he was about to catch up. He was so caught up in following the aide that when he turned the blind corner, he slammed into someone – hard.

Tumbling back rather painfully to the ground, Bucky heard a woman yelp in surprise before hearing whomever he had slammed into say, “Ow... I'm so sorry—”

_Steve?!_

“Steve?” Bucky questioned in slight disbelief as he scrambled up. His eyes weren't lying to him; as Steve, dressed in civilian clothing, already in the midst of reaching out to help him up. His best friend aborted his actions though, blinking at him in surprise.

“Bucky?” Steve echoed, looking as surprised as Bucky himself felt. Beyond his best friend were Emily and David, both looking surprised as well.

“What are you doing here?” both he and Steve asked each other at the same time.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with the layout of the Savoy, so I could fit certain scenes into my story. True to history though, Churchill did meet with a lot of important people at the Savoy during WWII. The SOE's whispered nickname was actually 'Churchill's Secret Army'.
> 
> Also, the V-weapon attacks on Whitechapel and other areas of London are historically true. It was never explicitly stated in CA: TFA, but I suspect that a V-weapon destroyed the pub; where the Commandos were formed, where Peggy showed off her red dress, and where Steve was trying to get drunk after Bucky's 'death'.


	6. Spider in the Web

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 2, Episode 6.

**Chapter 6: Spider in the Web**

“What are you doing here?”

Even in the brief moment that Bucky had seen Steve abort his movement to help him up, Steve resumed that action. Bucky half-hauled himself up, using Steve's outstretched arm as a lever of sorts. He knelt back down to pick up the cap before placing it back on his head, without fanfare.

“What are you—” Steve began.

“Hey, there they are!” a voice shouted from down the alleyway that Bucky and Michael had come from.

“Stay right where you are!” someone bellowed with authority over the piercing alert whistles.

He heard Michael softly curse before muttering to him, “Don't fight it.”

Before Steve could admonish Michael for the curse, having not caught the other words, the clatter of footsteps quickly surrounded the five of them. Scotland Yard, had caught up to them. They had most likely been alerted to the collision, or to Bucky's rather hurried walk to find out why Shostakov's aide was here.

“This is a mistake—” Steve began again, the tone of his voice taking on a tinge of authority. Bucky had only heard that tone used during the times when the Commandos had been embedded with other battalions, and the soldiers were faltering.

“Hold up, aren't you Captain America?” a policeman interrupted, peering up at Steve.

“Yeah, I think that is Captain America,” another chimed in.

“Thank you for apprehending these two, sir,” the bellowing officer stated in a more calm and controlled tone. Bucky saw him briefly flicker his eyes over towards David and Emily. Steve had pushed the two slightly behind him as a slight protective measure, in the event that the policemen got too aggressive.

“If you and your compatriots—” the officer continued, as Bucky suddenly felt his arms being roughly pulled behind him. Cold cuffs were shackled to his wrist, and a cloth sack rammed over his head.

It took all of Bucky's instinct to _not_ immediately lash out and attack the policemen.

“Hey!” Steve started at the same time, with Emily and David's exclamations echoing as well.

Whatever was happening, he had heard the order in Michael's words to not 'fight it'. For what purpose it would serve, he didn't know, but he had to put his trust in Michael to guide them through this. Steve did not know about Michael's SOE mission, and Bucky was sure as hell not going to tell Steve about the mission – or his own from Philips.

“Would follow me, we'd like some words and statements,” the officer continued as if he had not heard Steve's words.

“But—” Steve continued to protest.

“Words in _private_ , Captain Rogers,” Bucky heard the officer emphasize as he felt himself being pushed forward by a policeman. “Words that these _anarchists_ would take and continue to sow discord amongst our great nation.”

There was something in those words, and even if they were oblique enough that Bucky wasn't sure what exactly was happening, he hoped that Steve understood enough to not continue to make a scene. Not that he was grateful to his best friend in trying to not let Scotland Yard arrest him, but there was something going on between Michael's words to him, and the officer's words to the rest of them.

Silence greeted the officer's words before Bucky heard Steve curtly state, “Lead the way, sir.”

Shuffling along with the rest of the Bucky, could hear the murmurs of the crowd that had gathered to watch the policemen escort their prisoners. Most of the attention was on Steve though, and he hoped that Emily and David were somewhere close, or had slipped away. Though he wondered what the two were doing with Steve, he wouldn't have put it past Peggy to have had her assign the two to help Steve with something.

That something had strangely brought Steve, Emily, and David here – and Bucky was sure that it was not Shostakov's aide. He had seen the aide turn the blind corner, but now Shostakov's aide was lost. Steve and the others certainly didn't know what Shostakov's aide looked like. There had been no photographer to 'commemorate' the meeting of various intelligence organizations – photographing such an event was the most idiotic thing anyone could do.

Soon, Bucky was stumbling up the steps and entering a building, as the outdoor noise faded ever so slightly. As he was pushed further into the station, footsteps all around were echoing on the polished floor, making it a little disconcerting for him to try to hear anything.

He was halted after a few more minutes, and heard the tell-tale squeaky hinge of a jail cell being opened. However, he wasn't pushed forward, and neither did he hear anyone push Michael forward. In fact, only a few seconds passed before the squeaky hinge and the slamming noise of the jail cell closing was heard.

What purpose that served was not known to him as Bucky felt himself being herded down another hall. “If you would please, sir,” he heard the officer say, before hearing the footsteps of Steve, along with Emily and David, go forward.

It was either an office or meeting room of sorts, as Bucky heard the door close. Both he and Michael were then shuffled a few more steps forward before Bucky heard a slight change in the sounds all around him. Everything got a little more muffled as he was sat down on a chair. He heard Michael being directed in the same manner, before both of their hoods were lifted off their head.

The handcuffs had not been removed.

The officer who had removed their hoods left without another word, closing the door to the meeting room. Across the table, and through the frosted glass, Bucky could see the outlines of three shadows sitting on chairs. The most prominent one was Steve, and he could easily identify the other two as David and Emily.

“What's going on?” he asked, bringing his cuffed hands up to rest on the table.

Bucky watched as another shadow entered the room that Steve and the others had been sequestrated in. Muffled voices, especially the deep bellowing one from the officer-in-charge who had ordered their arrest, filled the air.

“My mission was to reconnoiter that group of anarchists that the speaker came from. It was most likely in preparation for a field assignment somewhere in Europe. Scotland Yard was only to act as an assist in my mission, breaking up the gathering to allow me to slip away and infiltrate. They don't know about my mission – only that they were to provide assistance to someone who looked like me should things go awry. My educated assumption is that they think I am a Confidential Informant from the Yard's headquarters. Perhaps they assumed that I was sent here to help them break up the anarchists. But given that stunt with the jail cell, I think they have some internal problems of their own as well,” Michael answered in an even tone.

Bucky softly cursed, realizing that what he had done had completely derailed Michael's mission. “I'm sorry,” he apologized.

“Apology not accepted,” Michael said. Out of the corner of his eyes, Bucky saw him shake his head. “We don't know how many of that group saw us get arrested, but they did sure see Steve. This is something that I might be able to use to my advantage.”

The SOE agent paused for a moment as Bucky glanced over to see him briefly press his thumbs together before giving him a wan smile. “I'm used to missions never going perfectly. There's always some fun in the unknown that comes after something like this.”

Despite the guilt that he felt, Bucky couldn't help but snort slightly in laughter. The words, though not exact, were similar to what Steve occasionally answered whenever his best friend did something unusually spontaneous.

“Still, I'm sorry,” he apologized again.

“The bigger problem is you convincing Steve and the other two as to why you're here,” Michael pointed out.

“Do you think Steve might have blown your cover?” Bucky asked, concerned.

Not that Steve wasn't good at lying – he knew that his best friend definitely didn't have the finesse to even pull off a successful or convincing lie. Given the gesticulating movements that he saw through the frosted glass, Bucky had to guess that Steve was trying to do his best to convince the officer that both he and Michael were not anarchists.

“It's not the first time my cover has been blown at home,” Michael answered, sounding completely at ease. “There's always a higher risk of that happening while working domestically in a populous city. You never know who you're going to run into. I'm a little more worried about you.”

_I hate lying to Steve, but..._

Before Bucky could answer, there was some large movements in the other room as the voices died down. Bucky saw the officer get up, leave, and briefly speak to another officer outside, while Steve and the others remained. However, the officer then entered the room that he and Michael were sitting in, still shackled.

“James,” the officer greeted as the door closed. “And Mr. Matthew... Carver, I presume?”

“Do I know you?” Bucky asked at the same time that Michael confirmed the alias. He was slightly uneasy that this officer in front of him looked like he knew him – and not from whatever Steve most likely said in the other room.

“I suppose that you wouldn't remember me, as you were but a child last we met,” the officer stated. “Chief Inspector Samuel Brewster,” the officer said to both of them, focusing on the matter at hand.

“Not ringing any bells,” Bucky answered, as the officer held out the key and unlocked both of their cuffs.

If the officer took any offense to what was said, he didn't show it. Instead, the officer said, “I apologize for that scene out there. Unfortunately, because of what commotion was caused there, the officers had been ordered to quell and arrest any offenders. The two of you just happened to be caught.”

“I remember you saying something about anarchists?” Bucky stated, rubbing his wrists for a brief moment.

The metal hadn't bit into him, but he knew that he had to keep Philips mission to him a secret. It was obvious now from the fact that the officer had sat him in the same room, that they thought that he was an accomplice or something of that nature to Michael's cover. Bucky needed to distance himself for the moment, to try to not say or do anything further to Michael's cover or mission.

“Regardless of what Captain America said in that room, he's not with me,” Michael answered, gesturing slightly to him. “We just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I thought I saw a pickpocket steal something off of him.”

“Or right place and the right time,” the officer stated. “Captain Rogers was quite adamant in defending you, James.”

“That's Steve, in a nutshell,” Bucky couldn't help but mutter and actually feel slightly embarrassed.

He owed it to his friend now, to get out of this scrape. He was also not looking forward to reporting to Philips about being 'arrested' by Scotland Yard, as he knew that Steve would be forced to report it per regulations.

“Regardless, you are free to leave now, James. I would like to have some words with Mr. Carver in private,” the officer stated.

Seeing that he had no other excuse to remain, Bucky shrugged and nodded towards Michael as a simple goodbye. Whatever else Michael's mission would carry him elsewhere as an agent of the SOE, it was now clear that Bucky could no longer participate – not without giving away anything.

Out in the hall, he saw that the door to the room where Steve and the others were, was slightly open. Hearing the low voices of his friends still sitting in the room, Bucky supposed that now was the best time to explain himself. He was also rather curious as to why Steve, Emily, and David were here of all places. The Whitechapel district was definitely not a tourist spot.

“Hey,” he greeted as he pushed the door open, stepped in to the side, and closed the door behind him. “Bit wild out there.”

As he expected, Steve's expression was anything but happy. Bucky was slightly surprised to see exasperation written plainly on his best friend's face. There was a puzzled look on Emily's face, while David seemed to be fighting off the worried look, trying to school his expression to a more neutral look. Considering the words that they had spoken to each other last night on the rooftop, it was clear to Bucky that David was still trying to fight the jealous monster within him.

“Anarchists?” Steve began, looking annoyed. “Really, Bucky?”

“So I was told by the chief,” Bucky said, before affecting an annoyed tone. “You think I was listening to whatever the hell they were saying?” Before Steve could answer that question, Bucky continued on, saying, “Steve... I just happened to run into Peggy's brother here. Maybe you should be asking him why he was listening the anarchists.”

It wasn't his intention to throw Michael to the wolves, especially under scrutiny with whatever Steve was going to say when this got to Philips, but it was the safest thing Bucky knew that he could do. It was already clear, even if unspoken, that Steve understood that Michael was here with a purpose. It was also unspoken that Steve also only defended him, Bucky, from being arrested.

Bucky felt slightly relieved that Steve had learned a lot – especially after what he and Peggy had revealed to Steve on the 5th of November. He didn't mind Steve knowing that he reported to Peggy on various intelligence-related things he heard and found in the field.

Yet, there were still many things that he wanted – no, needed – to keep Steve away from. Steve could not step any further into the dark shadows of the SSR – not if he wanted his best friend to continue to be the light of hope and good.

“Wrong place, wrong time?” Steve asked.

“Wrong place, right time?” he guessed, before jerking a thumb towards the other room, where the officer and Michael were still talking. “Ran into him while wandering around. Michael said he thought he saw a pickpocket filch something from me. Nothing's missing though.” Bucky scratched the back of his head, “Guess he was here for something, and my running messed up whatever the hell he was doing.”

“I'll say,” Steve said, shaking his head slightly. “Nice outfit, by the way. You look just like the locals.”

“And you three stand out,” Bucky retorted, but there was no venom in that tone.

It was the truth – Steve, Emily, and David all looked too clean and neat to even blend in. But he knew that Steve was still waiting for an answer as to why he was here, when there were plenty of better places within London to be spending leave.

“This isn't a nice area to be in,” he stated, finally taking a seat. “Captain America here is going to make waves, and not just with Philips, Steve. People here are going to get more riled up than they already are.”

“So you _were_ listening to anarch—” Steve began, frowning.

“I was _born_ here, Steve,” Bucky stated, deciding that this was better than attempting to lie to Steve.

There were times when he really hated how sharp Steve was – and at the moment, there was a good chance that Steve would not continue to believe any of his lies. It was always murky to Bucky as to how much he could push the envelope whenever lying to Steve – only to protect him, of course.

There was also the fact that he had a feeling that the Chief Inspector knew him, or his family – which Bucky could count on as a possible alibi. Yet, as far as he knew, his mother never wrote or kept up with anyone in London. Neither had his father after they had emigrated.

“Becca and I were born here. She's getting married. You know the rhyme: something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a sixpence in her shoe. Where the hell is she going to find a sixpence, if not here?” he continued, doing his best to ignore the surprised look that Steve and the others were giving him.

“You were born here? In the Whitechapel area?” Emily was the one to surprisingly ask, beating Steve. “But your accent...”

“It was either lose it, or get beaten up over it,” Bucky answered, shrugging slightly. “Children can be vicious bastards towards each other.”

At that, he saw Steve nod in agreement, the words having the intended effect of snapping him out of his slight stupor. “But finding a sixpence here?” Steve questioned.

“Silver for the war effort,” David quietly spoke up. “Best place to get a sixpence that hasn't been melted is from the black market – here.”

It was Bucky's turn to be surprised. He was not the only one to look over towards David, as the young engineer, glanced down at the table and continued to say, “I'll ask my father if he knows of any dealers that might have what you're looking for. Reasonably priced, if possible.”

“David...” Bucky began, concerned. “You're not running with mob bosses, are you?”

Any other person would have wilted under such scrutiny – especially from Steve – but David strangely didn't. Instead, the young man shook his head before saying, “I didn't make the connection until you mentioned that you were born here in Whitechapel, Bucky. But I believe that my father, the Chief Inspector, and your father worked together in this station house. My father used to tell me a few stories about the cases he worked – one of which always stood out to me: the copycat Jack the Ripper case – and the officer who cracked it.

“He said that because of what happened in that aftermath, it was better to allow some festering of corruption in Whitechapel – to draw it away from the nicer, more respectable parts of the city. I don't know how those at the Yard's headquarters see it, but he said that its gotten a lot better than it had been twenty years ago. Less murders, less corruption...”

“Don't worry about it,” Bucky said, somehow managing to find his voice as his shock died. It would certainly explain how and why Chief Inspector Brewster knew of his name without him uttering it.

Before any of them could say another word, there was a knock on the door. A moment later, the Chief Inspector opened the door, and gestured with a hand out towards the hall. “We're ready, Captain Rogers.”

“You want to come with us, Bucky?” Steve asked, clapping him on the back as they all stood up. “We're looking for someone.”

“Sure,” Bucky shrugged. He really had nothing else to do, other than not linger around this particular area of the district. “Not sure if I want to linger in this part of town for the rest of leave anyways.”

They exited the station and into a back alley. A few feet from where they were was a black patrol wagon. There was an officer standing next to the door, as the Chief Inspector gestured for them to get into the back of the patrol wagon. Whomever Steve and the others were looking, it was clear that the commotion caused earlier was enough for the Yard agree to transport them to somewhere else in the district.

Bucky was the last to step up to the patrol wagon. Before he did so, he turned slightly towards the Chief Inspector and stuck out a hand. “I heard from your son that you worked with my father on the copycat Jack the Ripper case. Thanks, I guess, for not arresting me.”

The Chief Inspector smiled slightly as he shook his hand, saying, “Only this one time, James. Only this one time. The ruckus that you running into Captain Rogers caused, almost derailed Mr. Carver’s mission. But, with all things considered, I should have expected you to be as reckless as what is published about you in those comic books.”

Bucky couldn’t help but cough to cover his embarrassment. He was aware that some of the SSR reports were sanitized to the point where the Commandos’ and Steve’s missions could be read like fiction. It was all for morale purposes – to keep the spirits of the people back home high. He wasn’t aware though, that someone like the Chief Inspector read those comics.

The Chief Inspector let go of his hand, saying, “You’re a hero, James. You and Captain Rogers - you’re both an inspiration to the rest of us. You remind me of how Ve—Winifred had been, last I had seen her. I hope your mother and father are proud of you.”

The happy mood that Bucky had been swimming in abruptly dropped to concern and caution. He swore that he had almost heard the Chief Inspector say his mother’s true name – Vera – before substituting for what he now knew was her alias: Winifred Barnes, married to James Barnes, Sr. He knew little of what his parents’ life had been like prior to their moving to America – mostly because he had been a child.

“My father died when I was ten, sir,” he stated, deciding the leave the matter alone.

What little he could remember of the days leading up to their departure from London was hazy. Considering the warning that his mother had given him before he had been deployed, he wouldn’t have put it past that his parents had had some possible ‘help’ getting out of the city. Perhaps the Chief Inspector had been someone who had helped them.

“Oh,” was the quiet answer he received.

It all but confirmed his assumption – his parents had not keep in contact with anyone here. For safety, for reasons pertaining to what his mother was, was most likely the greatest influence. Yet, even with what he knew now, Bucky still hated his father – and it didn’t matter what praises others said about him or his work. His father was a monster to him, and he was glad that his father was dead.

Yet, he wasn’t callous enough to dismiss the fact that his father was only human and had friends and family who had cared about him. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “If I had known—”

“No,” the Chief Inspector stated, shaking his head slightly. “It was better to not keep in contact.” The matter was abruptly dropped as the Chief Inspector gestured for him to get into the patrol wagon.

To Bucky’s slight surprise, the officer climbed in after him, closing the door. The wagon began moving a few moments later, though Bucky was barely settled in the uncomfortable bench that lined on either side of the wagon, when he noticed the other officer already in the wagon.

He frowned before smoothing his expression to a more neutral look: Michael was in the wagon, in disguise as a mustachioed Yard officer.

Either the Chief Inspector knew, or he didn’t but Bucky heard him address Steve, saying, “Very few of my officers have the key to the warehouse where the overflow from not only Limehouse, but other docks are kept...”

Bucky kept an ear listening to the Chief Inspector brief Steve on what sounded like storage warehouses for excess materials used in shipyards. At the same time, Emily quietly briefed him on what had happened. He felt a chill sweep through him as he listened to what Steve and Peggy had encountered last night – and what Steve had run into on his own.

By the time they got to the warehouse, it seemed that word had already been spread of locking down the area. Though there were the usual few crowds of people curious as to what was going on, the policemen took the possible threat seriously.

Bucky, Steve, and the others got out of the patrol wagon with out any civilians spotting them. Even Michael tagged along, still disguised as an officer. However, true to his disguise and whatever he was doing with that disguise, the SOE agent did not indicate knowing any of them.

Now was not the time to ask the SOE agent of his purpose, but Bucky managed to pull Steve aside and ask, “Did he say anything?”

He had gestured with only a slight tilt of his head towards Michael. Bucky hoped that Steve had recognized Michael under the disguise, and had taken the opportunity to question why the SOE agent was here and not elsewhere carrying out his mission.

Not that he minded the further opportunity to get to know Michael – he had assumed that missions came first, not personal relationships. He had seen it in the way that Peggy and Steve interacted with each other. He could only assume that both treasured the endless amount of time they would have together after the war ended. Bucky had placed that same assumption on Michael.

“He said similar words that you said,” Steve answered, shaking his head slightly. “But still, you were right: he had been on a mission.”

“SSR personnel screwing up a SOE agent’s mission,” Bucky couldn’t help but murmur. “That’ll be a swell thing to tell Philips.”

Steve had all but said that what happened in the alleyways would have to be reported to both organizations. “It’s not your fault. Wrong place, wrong time, Buck. Let’s just see if we can find anything useful here,” Steve said, giving him a sympathetic look.

He nodded, and together they and the others made their way into the warehouse. The pungent smells of various unrefined materials, along with stored and refined ones was a familiar one to Bucky as he drifted away from the main group. It reminded him of the Brooklyn Shipyards and the dangerous work that always came with working in such a place.

As Bucky went from section to section, he wondered if there was another purpose to what Steve and Peggy had seen and smelled. He was looking for the containers that had been used in the Brooklyn Shipyards to hold the two materials, but it was as David had told Steve – the two liquids were extremely dangerous together. He only knew of the instances where the two had been mixed – all of the results horrific.

“You seem to know your way around a shipyard warehouse.”

Bucky was not one to be surprised easily, yet the warm, teasing voice that brushed across his ears and neck startled him. He had to keep himself from attacking. It was Michael who had said those words as he glanced over to see him step up, keeping pace with him while still in disguise. To his relief, there was no one around their immediate vicinity.

“Erecting wooden masts are easier, if you know your way around,” he stated after a moment, a wicked grin splitting across his lips.

Two could play at this game, even if things had gone slightly awry earlier. He was giving no quarter to the implied statement in Michael’s comment. It was not a path he was comfortable with, but he suspected that Michael had not just remained with them because of the need to let things settle with the anarchists.

There seemed to be a persistence in the way Michael was flirting with him – as if testing all sorts of boundaries, even in public. Bucky had been exhausted last night – perhaps Michael had sensed that and decided not to push his luck.

The unexpected double entendre response that he gave to Michael seemed to have done the trick. Bucky glanced back for a moment to see that Michael had stopped, staring at him. There was a slight red that had flushed up into Michael’s cheeks. Bucky couldn’t help but bark in laughter before continuing on with his search.

A few minutes later, more audible steps approached, as he saw Michael walk beside him, no longer ‘ambushing’ him with words or actions. “Fighting words,” he heard the SOE agent murmur appreciatively.

“So, how is this a part of your mission?” he asked, getting back to the matter at hand.

“Peggy looked worried about something this morning when I met her for breakfast. I didn’t ask, but when Steve mentioned her involvement in what happened last night, giving her a helping hand was the least I could do. My SOE mission is long-term, so I’ll let things with the anarchists develop. I also like spending time with you, and its not just for your own mission,” Michael answered.

As much as Bucky wanted to answer with a slightly sarcastic comment, something else caught his attention. “Hold that thought. I think we’ve found it,” he stated.

He stopped before a rather large stack of metal barrels and several feet high, stacked crates. The smell emanating from both was minimal, but it was distinct enough to bring back memories that he’d rather forget.

“What the hell,” he couldn’t help but say into the relative silence in his immediate area. “What shipyard storage house keeps these two _next_ to each other?”

He was quite angry at what he saw. However, with all things that had happened in the past few days, he wouldn’t have put it past HYDRA to have distracted all of them to attempt this. The soldier Steve encountered may have just slipped up enough to have given the plan away.

“I’ll get the others,” he heard Michael say, briefly clapping him on the side of his arm and left.

It wasn’t long before Steve and the others arrived. “What the devil?” the manager exclaimed upon seeing what the rest of them were seeing. “This wasn’t arranged like this last night. We—”

As much as Bucky wanted to doubt the manager’s words about the two volatile materials not being stored together in this manner, footsteps clattering at a fast run towards them were heard. “Sirs!” one of the officers shouted, panting slightly as he skidded to a stop in front of all of them. “A person matching the description Captain Rogers gave has been sighted in the Limehouse Basin.”

The Chief Inspector swore, before saying, “Get every available officer to the Basin on the double. Surround and contain—”

Bucky managed to catch Steve’s eyes for a brief moment, knowing that the orders that the Chief Inspector were giving was the worse thing that could possibly happen. It was most likely standard protocol for such orders to be given, but with all things considered – those orders were going to make things worse.

“Hold those orders, Chief Inspector,” Steve interrupted, shaking his head slightly. “The suspect might or might not be the person we’re looking for. If we go in there and disrupt operations, we’re holding out a flag that says: do not come back, we’re after you.”

Thankfully, it seemed that the Chief Inspector was a reasonable man and not a prideful one that took offense to having orders trampled upon. “Belay that,” the Chief Inspector said, halting the officer from running off to phone the orders in. “Then what do you propose, Captain Rogers?”

There was no malice or sarcasm that Bucky had expected out of those questions. There were too many officers that the Commandos had encountered in the field who looked down upon the Commandos as fodder. Some even spread terrible rumors that the Commandos were an arrogant group who were only there to steal a battalion’s glory.

Bucky knew that Steve heard those rumors and it hurt him to have his team spoken in that way. But there was nothing to be done except complete the mission given and hope that their actions were enough to change hearts and minds. Some did, some didn’t.

“I have an idea,” Bucky spoke up before Steve could. At Steve’s silent nod, Bucky continued, gesturing towards the volatile materials, saying, “Your men need to inspect each and every barrel and canister stored, before these materials can be moved apart. What you’re looking for, or hopefully confirming that there is not, is a homing device.”

“HYDRA?” David asked, at the same time Emily looked uneasy. “V-weapons then.”

“Bucky’s right,” Steve stated, nodding in agreement. “The materials were pushed together by someone working at the warehouse or had slipped into the warehouse last night. They’re just waiting to explode with the right application or device.”

“So this is the distraction then?” the Chief Inspector asked.

“Possibly,” Bucky answered, before looking back over towards Steve, saying, “I think you’re dealing with more than one soldier in this… thing.”

“But that doesn’t account for the five found dead and floating in the Thames. Or why we found residue in Vauxhall,” Steve stated.

Bucky couldn’t help but shrug. He had no explanation for that either. “Limehouse though, is going to be based on what I heard about a raid conducted on the Brooklyn Shipyards to trap and capture a minor mob boss that had been a thorn in society’s side.”

He saw Steve nod, knowing that Steve had read the papers’ publishing of that daring raid, but not the actual details. The details that he knew about came from his coworkers and foreman who had been advised to stay out of the way that day.

“The policemen surrounded the shipyards but on a wide perimeter,” Bucky continued. “They parked the wagons at the main entrances, and visibly stationed men near those wagons. Then, they sent a few trusted, disguised men in through secondary and tertiary entrances. Those who helped the disguised men were rewarded. Those who didn’t were not prosecuted, if they stayed out of the way of the raid. Eventually, they managed to flush the mob boss out, capturing him at a secondary exit, after he attempted to leave through a main entrance.”

“Fair plan,” the Chief Inspector stated, nodding in approval.

“If I may make a further suggestion, sir,” Steve spoke up. At the officer’s nod to continue, Steve said, “By now, there are most likely rumors floating around the area that I’m here in this district. This soldier has already fled twice. We don’t know how willing he is to hurt others. He may do so if we approach this in an aggressive manner. To keep others from getting hurt, especially with the dangers in a shipyard, why don’t we pretend that I’m here as a part of the war effort, and that you are showing me around the shipyards.”

“Bait and lure,” the Chief Inspector said. “But as a civilian?”

“It makes the people more at ease,” Steve answered.

Bucky was never happy when Steve volunteered himself in such a situation, but it was an old, tried, and true way of getting things done. Whenever they had had an advantage over the bullies, Steve always made himself the bait, running as fast as he could towards where Bucky hid in ambush. It was the same kind of tactics that they had also brought onto the battlefield – except that Steve could handle himself.

Most of the time, in Bucky’s opinion.

“All right, we do it your way,” the officer said, nodding at both of them.

* * *

Steve sat up straight in the patrol wagon, even though he wanted to sit hunched over like Bucky did. It was now more than a passing concern about a soldier the SSR had rescued days ago. The fact that Bucky’s first instinct was to go to HYDRA combined with V-weapons made Steve worried.

He knew that his best friend’s conclusion did not come lightly – HYDRA had tried to plant a homing device within the SSR before, via an operative disguised as one of the SSR’s codebreakers. That attempt had been successfully foiled, but he wouldn’t have put it past HYDRA to try such a thing again.

As the screeching jolt and halting motion jolted Steve out of his troubling thoughts. Getting out, he followed the Chief Inspector as he saw Bucky, Emily, David, and Michael still in disguise, go with the other officers who had been called onto the scene.

He knew what Bucky was talking about, when the plan of action that the policemen had taken at Brooklyn was told to the Chief Inspector. It had been the day after his mother’s funeral that he had read about what happened in the papers.

Bucky hadn’t been at the shipyards when the raid had happened – all because his best friend had surprisingly taken the day off, just to be there for him.

At the present though, as much as he wanted to go help Bucky, he had his role to play. He had almost protested the fact that Bucky had drafted Emily into the dangerous plan, but then had seen the device that David had drawn out of his satchel. It was the same one-way small communications device that he and Bucky had used during the Panzer attack.

Emily had taken the radio, while David went with her to try to enhance the distance and clarity. Bucky had taken one of the earpieces, while Michael had taken the other. By the actions he had seen the young codebreaker and engineer perform, he knew then, that Bucky must have trained the two.

He kept his opinions to himself on that small revelation, as the shipyard’s manager came out, followed by a few foremen. As introductions were made, and the ‘tour’ began, he took the opportunity to look around.

The air was saturated with smoke, and extremely hot, even in the cold November weather. Pungent smells worse than the noxious combination of fuel and hydrogen sulfide filled the air. Steve had seen and walked around the perimeter of the Brooklyn Shipyards, but had never been inside the main factory. It was where iron, steel, and other materials were melted, fabricated, and worked upon to build ship after ship.

They were more than half-way into the factory when the so-called trap was triggered. It didn’t start with a bang, but with a shout from someone saying, “Stop him!”

Steve was already moving into action, as he glanced up and saw the impossible happen. He couldn’t tell if it was the soldier or not, but there was a man, jumping from beam to beam a hundred yards away and above from him. Scrambling up after the man were the dark-uniformed police officers.

With a curt, “Excuse me,” he gave to those around him, Steve began running, spying the nearest wheel barrel that would be able to give him the necessary ramp up.

Leaping up and grabbing onto the nearest beam, he swung himself up and began running. Keeping his balance was not as simple as he thought it would be, as the beams hoisted by the cranes swung back and forth. He could see more officers below, shouting for people to get away, as he chased down the man from above their position.

The soldier was nimble though, as Steve caught a glimpse of him looking back. That glance back also confirmed to Steve that it was the soldier. Far be it that there was a fearful look on the soldier’s face – there was nothing, not even fear.

Maintaining balance while running slowed him down, but there were occasions where the beams gave way to more solid, but no less dangerous ground. Shouts floated up after them, but at least no one dared to fire a gun in an area where things around them were already either heated up or quite explosive.

Yet, every time Steve got close, the soldier seemed to slip away just as quickly. It was the same as before at the Vauxhall embankment and the fog.

Movement to his far left alerted him to the fact that Michael – at least he thought it was Michael – and a couple of officers who were more nimble and agile, had managed to climb up onto some machinery. That gave the soldier some pause, and just as Steve saw him attempt to run towards the right, a slight shadow appeared out of the corner of Steve’s eyes.

The end of the beam that the soldier was standing on suddenly shook with Bucky’s timely arrival. It wobbled enough that the soldier had to drop into a crouch and grabbed the sides to keep his balance.

Steve did not grin in triumph though, and instead, shouted to the soldier over the din of the active machineries, “Surrender, please!”

The soldier didn’t say a word, but Steve could see him consider his options – one of which was a rather painful way down. There was nothing but sawdust-covered ground below and—

Steve was fast, but even he wasn’t fast enough to run across the beam he was perched upon, as the soldier smirked and let go. To Steve’s relief, Bucky was fast enough to lunge forward and snatch the soldier by his left arm, just as he reached the end of his beam.

There was an eerie calm about the soldier that sent chills down Steve’s spine. Unexpectedly, just as he reached out to help Bucky haul the soldier back up, the soldier reacted faster than either he or Bucky had anticipated.

“Hail HYDRA!”

A split second later, Steve felt himself being kicked backwards by Bucky, just as the hissing noise of what he could only assume was sulfuric acid, burned across the air and onto where he had been. He slammed into the other end of the beam hard enough to have his breath knocked out. Steve immediately grabbed the sides of the beam for balance.

At nearly the same time, Bucky had thrown the soldier away from both of them, Michael, and the policemen on the machineries. Steve saw the soldier swallow something from a small metal tube of sorts.

Not two seconds after Bucky had thrown the soldier, the young man exploded.

* * *

_Whitechapel District, nightfall..._

“I see that your thirty-six hours of leave was immensely productive.”

Steve looked up from where he was sitting with Bucky and the rest, as Peggy came to a stop before all of them. They were not at the main station house, but were still at the Limehouse Basin. There was no fog tonight, making the streets all the brighter than they had been for the past few days.

Due to what had happened, the Chief Inspector had requested all of them to remain, while certain elements of the British government, and Atlantic Command were contacted. There was no escaping the fact that there was a HYDRA operative in the guise of one of the soldiers that the SSR had rescued earlier.

“Sorry, Peggy,” he offered up an apology, knowing that it was not enough. Not especially since what he had tried to keep as a minor investigation had turned into a disaster.

“Come on, all of you,” Peggy said, gesturing for them to follow her. “That includes you, Michael.”

Steve saw Peggy’s brother blink a few times, surprised to be included in the gathering. In the aftermath of what had happened, Michael had shed his disguise and sat with them, answering questions as best as he could. Steve did note that the SOE agent did manage to not outright state whatever his mission for the SOE was, when questioned by investigators.

Out of all of them though, Steve clearly felt for both David and Emily. The two had only been assigned to help him, since Peggy was busy and couldn’t help. They had little knowledge of what happened before today, and even then, they were members of the SSR who shouldn’t have gone through police interrogation.

Steve had managed to stop most of the questions. Whether it was a combination of Bucky glowering at the investigators, David’s father intervening in a more diplomatic fashion, or otherwise both, the investigators had stopped shortly after that.

“Philips has ordered this to be left to the Home Office and their coordination with Atlantic Command,” Peggy stated. “It’s out of our hands.”

There was a finality in that statement, and Steve could hear the sharpness in her tone. The last time he had heard such sharpness had not been directed at him, but during a followup investigation that the SSR had been conducting in the aftermath of the attempted sabotage by traitor Alistair Brooke.

Several military commanders had gotten involved in the aftermath of that. The Enigma code ciphers had been nearly stolen by Brooke, who had been under orders to take it back to enemy lines.

At the present, Peggy’s tone meant that none of them, not even the great Captain America, had enough leverage or political capital to find out or listen in on the investigation. Steve couldn’t help but wonder just how many promises or negotiations Philips had agreed to, just to get all of them uninvolved with the ordeal and back into normal operations.

“May I say farewell to my father, Agent Carter?” David asked.

Peggy silently nodded in affirmation as the young engineer scampered off. A few minutes later, David returned, and they all set off down the darkened streets towards home.

“First cyanide, and now this… something explosive,” Steve heard Peggy murmur from beside him. As much as he wanted to put his arm around Peggy, he didn’t, and settled for silently holding her hand as they walked.

“Swallowing fuel alone should’ve killed him,” he heard Michael quietly state. Peggy’s brother was surprisingly walking beside Bucky, instead of on Peggy’s right. “He had two opportunities to kill himself or you when he was nearly caught by you, Steve. So why now? Another public declaration of war would be idiotic.”

It was a rhetorical question, one that had passed through Steve’s thoughts as well in the aftermath. “Smelled like the Brooklyn Shipyards both times,” Steve couldn’t help but state. “Maybe the dampness wouldn’t have caused—”

“Shipyards only had workers use sulfuric acid to kill themselves, Steve,” Bucky quietly spoke up from his left.

His best friend had been extremely quiet in the aftermath; barely saying more than a few words that were necessary to answer the investigators’ questions. Steve had tried to ask him what was wrong, but Bucky had merely shook his head, indicating that he, Steve, should drop it. While Steve normally didn’t, enough had happened today that Steve acquiesced to his best friend’s unstated request.

“What?” Peggy questioned at nearly the same time Steve realized just what his friend was saying.

“Fuel and rotten egg smell,” Bucky stated, halting where he was, and causing the rest of them to stop.

Steve was aware that he was not the only one to stare at Bucky with an appalled look as he heard him continue to say, “Workers at the Brooklyn Shipyards used sulfuric acid to kill themselves. The smell comes from the acid liquefying inside. They justified it as a better way than throwing themselves off the bow or bridge. Didn’t want to bring bad luck to the ship or any future ships built in the docks by doing so.”

“Bucky...” Steve began, an uneasy and worried feeling creeping up his stomach.

Bucky shook his head, saying, “Leave it, Steve. Ain’t feeling like another trip down nightmare lane. HYDRA’s got yet another new weapon, and none of us knew about it—”

“Bloody hell, I think that _**is**_ Shostakov’s aide!”

Michael’s sudden exclamation broke through the uncomfortable conversation as all of them turned towards where the SOE agent was pointing to. Walking under a flickering lamp light across the street a few hundred yards from where they were was an older-looking man, looking nervous. Steve only saw the man in slight profile, fiddling with something on his hand – most likely a ring.

“Shit, you’re right,” he heard Bucky bite out a curse, immediately snapping out of his somewhat foul mood.

Without warning, the man suddenly turned towards them, facing them head on before waving his hand at them – as if taunting them. It was such a strange reaction that it stunned Steve for a moment. It was only both Bucky and Michael running after the aide, who had turned tail and tore down an alleyway, that Steve began to move as well.

Like the soldier that Steve chased after though, by the time he and Bucky tore past the flickering lamplight and down the same alleyway, Shostakov’s aide was gone. Steve silently signaled to Bucky to take the left, while he took the right. Even then, when they met on the other side, there was still no sign – it was as if Shostakov’s aide had disappeared into thin air.

Clapping Bucky on the shoulder for a moment in consolation, they returned to where Peggy, David, Emily, and Michael were. Michael was breathing quite hard, having tried to run after both him and Bucky.

“Can’t be a coincidence,” Bucky stated, sounding angrier than he already was.

“No, can’t be,” Peggy agreed. “But there’s no proof that Shostakov is colluding with HYDRA. There hasn’t been. Even the analyses that we’re gathering from the meeting has shown that everything Shostakov has stated is true.”

“I don’t know what the hell is going on, but that man and his aide should’ve left already,” Michael stated. “I’ll see if I can get any answers from Major Creighton.”

“If there is any evidence, we’ll find it,” Steve said.

He wanted to be confident, but after these past thirty-six, no, seventy-two hours, it was difficult to do feel so. The war against HYDRA was ever-evolving, but Steve couldn’t help but feel that somehow, it had gotten a lot more sinister than it already was.

~*~*~*~


	7. Divided Loyalties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 2, Episode 19.

**Chapter 7: Divided Loyalties**

_November 29 th, 1944, SSR Headquarters..._

The mood among the Commandos was furious, but none of that was directed at each other or the ordinary civilians they walked past to return to the SSR Headquarters. Still, the black cloud of anger that hung over all of them was enough to cause even the US Army personnel above ground to avoid them.

As the Commandos were silently buzzed in, and the heavy doors closed behind them, everyone who had seen them couldn't help but wonder what had happened. They were so used to the Commandos returning from each mission with happy grins and boisterous attitudes that the foul, black mood was jarringly out of place.

Steve led the others down the secondary entrance and across the silent bridge that connected the secured entrance to Howard's laboratory. They entered the locker rooms with little fanfare, got cleaned up and into uniform in silence, and proceeded to Howard's laboratory to drop off their weapons.

For all of their silence and unusual behavior, Steve still made sure that they placed their weapons in neat, orderly rows, instead of a pile to be sorted out later. Yet, even as Howard's aborted approach to cheerfully greet them turned into a simple 'thank you', the Commandos still remembered the bare niceties that needed to be given.

It was with that dark mood among the Commandos that they settled around the briefing table in silence. Even the normally placid look that Lorraine carried upon her during debriefings was instead, that of worry. Peggy just looked outright concerned.

“Status?” Philips bluntly asked.

“Mission complete,” Steve stated, somehow managing to speak without any sort or hint of anger in his tone. “Two hundred-fifty civilians rescued. Forty-three casualties; sixteen children, the rest adults.”

“What happened?” the SSR commander questioned.

“SIS map of the region was fucking shit, that was what happened,” DumDum spat out.

“Lieutenant,” Steve warned, before Philips' piercing gaze could even fully settle on DumDum.

Silence descended upon those gathered at the table. Steve let it sit there for a full thirty-seconds, needing both his men and himself to calm down after the caustic words.

DumDum was right, but it was nothing that would be conducive to allow Philips to find out why the map of the region they had been given by the SIS was vastly inaccurate. The fact that it was a map that had been drawn, labeled, and verified by both the OSS and SIS was concerning.

The last time they had received inaccurate data from the OSS resulted in them finding Michael and the platoons of the SOE. While a boon, Steve, had not heard of the investigative results into that missed crucial piece of intelligence. Now, innocent lives had been lost instead of preserved and protected.

“It wasn't the open fields that were laced with mines. HYDRA mined the forest,” Steve began. “Not the traditional burial of mines in the ground, either. They somehow buried them within the tree trunks, leaving no trace that the trees had been carved open. A child, no more than about eleven or twelve, had leaned against one of the trees containing a mine. He set it off, starting the chain reaction. We verified that the field was not buried with mines after making sure that the survivors made it out of there.”

Silence fell upon those at the table again, but it had also fallen among those closest to the briefing table. Steve could hear the concerned murmurs float among those who had heard him, and begun to spread it. He knew that by the hour's end, even those down in engineering would have heard it through the so-called grape vine.

Debriefs that the Commandos and other 107th teams gave were not usually spoken of by SSR personnel, unless it was extremely unusual from what they had come to expect from HYDRA. The last time something similar had happened had been near Christmastime in 1943. It had been when the Commandos had found and buried the bodies of children left to die in cages and cold, in an underground area of a factory.

“Understood,” Philips stated after a long moment. “I'll be presenting this brief in person to Allied Command after your next mission. Leave is not entirely granted for you and your men though, Captain. All I ask is that you stay within the vicinity of Headquarters, after your men stop by Logistics to get fitted with the uniforms for the next mission.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve answered for his team, even though he saw some puzzled looks in their eyes. “About what time is the next debrief?”

“Not for at least another three hours,” Philips stated. “We are waiting on some analyses to return before then. You and your men are at liberty to go to the pub, though.”

At their commander's declaration, Steve saw the anger in his men's eyes begin to die down to relief. They were at least given some form of outlet for their anger and frustrations. Steve had no doubt that DumDum and Dernier would be getting as drunk as possible. The two had been the closest to the beginnings of the cascade, and had seen the young child disintegrate before their eyes.

“Thank you, sir,” he answered.

“Rogers and Barnes, stay. The rest of you are dismissed,” Philips ordered.

As the rest of the Commandos got up and slowly made their way to the Logistics area of the base, Steve saw Lorraine get up as well. Peggy remained behind, but had moved to sit closer to the three of them.

It was only after the rest of the Commandos had completely vacated the area, along with the murmurs of those within the vicinity of the briefing table, that Philips began to speak. “Britain's Home Office did not find anything unusual related to Shostakov's aide. Soviet leadership has confirmed that both Mr. Lebedev and Colonel Shostakov departed on the 21st, after the all-clear was given, and arrived at Leningrad on the 22nd. Major Creighton, along with six other men who had escorted the two, have all signed affidavits attesting to the two's departure.”

“Sir,” Steve began, seeing Bucky lean back in his seat and scrubbing his face in frustration.

Normally, he would have at least said some word of admonishment to Bucky's severe lack of respect being displayed to everyone at the table, but he didn't. He couldn't at the moment – he couldn't bring himself to discipline any person on his team – not after what they had been through. All he could do at the moment, was make sure that they all still tried to adhere to normal social conventions as best as possible.

“Sir, we did see—” he tried to continue.

“I know,” Philips interrupted, seemingly ignoring Bucky's actions just this once. “I believe you. Go get fitted for your uniform, Rogers. You as well, Barnes. I'll have someone come find and fetch both of you when we're ready for the debrief.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve answered, nodding once as he got up.

Leaning slightly over, he gave Bucky a tap on the shoulder, and saw his friend reluctantly get up, looking as miserable as he himself felt. There was nothing he could do though – Bucky had yelled his curses, kicked tin boxes in frustration, sat in stony silence, and even talked it out to him when they had been on their way back to headquarters. While it had been somewhat cathartic, news of Shostakov's aide added more to both of their frustrations and worries.

As Steve passed by Peggy, who was still sitting at the briefing table, he saw her reach out to him, and paused for a moment as she placed a comforting hand on his forearm. He briefly slid his hand into her own and squeezed it, hoping that it was enough to reassure the woman he loved that he would eventually be all right.

* * *

_Later..._

“Philips isn't sending the Commandos into a high-society function for our next mission, is he?” Steve couldn't help but ask, as he turned to see Peggy approach.

With the noise of the cars below, and the cold breeze filling the murmurs and relative silence in the SSR, Steve could see why Bucky climbed to the rooftop after every mission. There seem to be a stifling atmosphere inside the base, and the only way to alleviate it was to get away. However, Steve didn't want to go to the pub, not wanting to partake in their attempts to drown out what they had experienced with alcohol. Thus, he sought the rooftop.

He would have expected Bucky to have already been up here, but surprisingly, his best friend had locked himself in 'the cage'. Whatever Bucky's reasons were to just sit there and clean weapons, Steve didn't disturb him.

At the present, he felt Peggy slip her gloved hand into his left hand, before silently raising it to the side of her face. Steve's fingers, while cold from the lack of a winter coat he was wearing, briefly felt the warmth of Peggy's left cheek. She lowered their clasped hands, enveloping his hand with both of her hands.

A few moments later, she let go and presented him the winter coat that she had draped over an arm. It was clear that she intended for them to remain on the rooftop. He took the coat, nodding his thanks to her as he put it on.

“Not a rooftop rendezvous?” he asked.

Not that he hoped that the fantastical, romantic sequences of what he remembered seeing in the films was about to come true. There was a time and place for that, and now was not the time nor place – thus his question was an attempt at humor to offset the rather heavy one he had initially asked her.

“No,” she answered, the edges of her lips quirking up in a slight smile before her expression became serious again.

“Philips is dealing with some serious and heavy political pressure, isn't he?” Steve asked after a few moments of peaceful silence that was filled with the traffic noise from below. He had a feeling that their commander had only explained a portion of the results of the investigation – mainly to silently warn them not to continue to pry.

As much as Steve hated the social functions that Philips forced him to attend as the face of the war effort, and to improve morale, Steve had learned a lot. In ways, it was similar to what he had done on the USO circuit. Politicians and well-connected people were almost present at every event he attended as Captain America. Yet, in turn he had heard where the efforts, monetary funds, and troops – if he was at a military function – were being sent to.

“Yes, and yes,” Peggy answered. “To both of your questions. Full dress uniform for you, Steve. The others will learn why we're outfitting all of you with different uniforms during the briefing. I just wanted to prepare you for it.”

“Ears only for me?” he guessed.

“Ears only,” she said, nodding in agreement, before folding her hands together. “It's complicated for someone in Philips' position, and I don't envy him for it. Also, I don't know how Bucky will react, given that he seems to have developed a vendetta against the Soviets.”

While Steve wouldn't have called Bucky's dislike of the Soviets a vendetta, he knew that it most likely stemmed from what happened at Kronas. Bucky had been under orders to destroy the HYDRA weapon at Kronas. His best friend had also deliberately taken the brunt of the Soviets' frustrations when they couldn't secure it, by picking a fight with the Soviet forces' commander there.

He saw her glance down, a look of frustration passing briefly over her face before she looked back up, saying, “Shostakov has requested another meeting.”

Steve blinked several times in surprise. A thousand thoughts raced across his mind, one of which was what Philips had told him and Bucky about the investigation into Shosatkov's aide. Perhaps that silent warning not to continue to pry was not just that, but to also leave the matter alone in a political manner.

“So soon?” he couldn't help but ask after a moment.

“Reports from SIS and OSS field agents confirmed that there is indeed a super-weapon there,” Peggy said, nodding. “The field agents are treading very carefully there, and are working with what Soviet agents are left and have not yet been captured. They're trying to find some non-confrontational way of securing the weapon.”

“But they're not asking for our help,” Steve stated, frowning.

“No, they're not,” she agreed.

He saw her glance out into the horizon for a long moment, worry lining her eyes. He waited patiently for her to continue and after a minute, she returned her attention onto him, saying, “Steve, they're shutting us out. They are completely shutting us out. The meeting between Shostakov, SIS, OSS, and Allied Command is happening tomorrow, and we were not invited.”

“What?” Steve openly gaped at her, stunned by the news.

“We only know of it happening because of what Fred—I mean, Major Creighton—told us,” Peggy began. “The SOE has also been apparently shut out, and it's all because of what happened at Whitechapel.”

“Peggy,” Steve began, greatly concerned. “That's... that's—”

“Absurd. Yes, I know,” she stated, sounding frustrated and tired at the same time. “Same words that I've said as well. However, I suspect that Whitechapel was the tipping point, and gave the OSS and SIS the necessary excuse and political capital to shut us out.”

“But it's a HYDRA weapon,” Steve stated. “A joint weapon built—”

He immediately shut his mouth and fell silent, knowing that his words were most likely the same or similar to what Peggy and probably Philips had already argued. He sighed in frustration, even though the anger within him that he had finally manage to control and tamp down was threatening to rise again.

“What do they hope to gain from our absence?” he couldn't help but ask, as he took Peggy's gloved hands into his own.

“I don't know,” she answered, as she fell into his embrace. “I don't know, Steve,” she repeated again, her words half-muffled against his chest.

Steve wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, as he heard her despair. It frightened him to hear her say such words; not just because he knew she was strong in spirit and will, but that she truly did not know what was going on.

Looking back, Steve had thought that this war had been so simple as he recalled his words to Dr. Erskine in that small infirmary. It had felt like a lifetime ago that he had said he just wanted to fight to stop the bullies. The SSR's main purpose was to engage and defeat HYDRA – to prevent Schmidt from unleashing hell on Earth with his weapons. They were the only organization equipped to do so.

What then, were they to do when other ill-equipped and trained organizations – including Allied Command – decided to shut them out of that war effort?

~~~

There was a certain amount comfort in the careful, but repetitive motion when it came to cleaning guns. Most of the weapons in the weapons locker area – named 'the cage' by most of the NCOs – didn't need cleaning, but Bucky had done so anyways. It was only the thump of two crates, followed by the rattling of 'the cage' door, and several instances of calling his name that finally ended with the calling of his rank that finally snapped him out of his far away stare.

Bucky realized that he had been spinning the barrel of the pistol he was currently cleaning around the cloth for the past few minutes, while staring at nothing in particular. “Sorry,” he hastily apologized, as he placed the cloth and barrel down, and got up to open 'the cage' door.

He stepped to the side as the two engineers, David, and Jerome if he remembered the other engineer's name correctly, entered. They set the crates of the disassembled weapons to the side. All of Howard's modifications that had been attached to the weapons had been either swapped out for the normal configuration, or removed.

Despite drifting in and out of his thoughts for the past few hours, Bucky was aware that by now, every single personnel down here knew of what the Commandos had encountered in their mission. He was only thankful that no one had seen to disturb him – allowing him the peace and quiet he desperately needed.

Until now; until there was no more avoiding the fact that life was moving on.

Jerome left first, but unsurprisingly, David stayed. However, Bucky could not look at the young man; not directly. In any other day, he would be able to, but not now. Even the peripheral glance that he had caught of David was already bringing up the horrific memories that had happened during the mission.

It had not been David who had died in his arms, but a young man who looked eerily similar to David. That young man had been wounded horrifically by pieces of shrapnel. Bucky had not reached that young man, or the family around that young man in time.

“I'll be all right,” Bucky quietly stated before David could ask the question he knew that the young engineer was about to ask.

“I can ask Emily to make you some tea—”

“No,” he sharply said, but immediately realized how forceful he had stated it. “No,” he repeated, this time softer and more careful.

“Sorry,” he amended after a moment, reaching over to pick up the first weapon from the crates – his sniper rifle. “I'm sorry,” he repeated, this time forcing himself to look up at David.

His friend – if David still considered them friends after what had happened days ago on the rooftop – looked worried. Bucky could see no sign of the jealous monster in those pale eyes of his at all; only worry.

“You're forgiven, Bucky,” David stated, nodding in sympathy.

“Do you have some time?” he asked, knowing that he at least owed his friend an explanation.

“I do,” David answered, but did not approach to take the other chair within 'the cage'. “But you don't have to talk about what happened if you don't want to. I can tell you what happened here in while you were gone, if it will help.”

Somewhat reluctantly, and because he felt that it was somewhat undeserving of him to be offered such an easy way out, he nodded. “Shostakov's aide?” he asked, setting the rifle down on the work bench.

David approached and took the other chair, sitting across the small work bench. “Somewhat related to that,” the young man stated. “But I'm under orders to not say a word about things directly related to that,” David admitted.

“Philips thinks I'm going to explode like I did at Estonia?” Bucky asked, though it was more rhetorical than an actual question.

He was no stranger to rumors that had swirled around his near-discharge from serving in the SSR. Retaining his career here had come at a very high price – at least that was the perception that lingered in the minds of all of the personnel in the SSR. Only he and Philips knew the real story behind it, and thus, the rumor that anything dealing with the Soviets in general had people tiptoeing cautiously around him.

Bucky knew and heard that his appointment as the primary translator during the negotiations with Shostakov had come as a surprise to everyone here. Yet, everyone had also heard that he was under the command of Philips. Thus the rumor that Philips was going to watch his every action during the negotiations allowed them a small amount of relief.

'Sergeant James Barnes of the US Army was probably not going to cause another diplomatic incident'. At least that had been the general consensus implied by everyone else.

If they only knew that he now served as Philips' assassin.

He mentally shook his head as he saw the mild look that David was giving him. “Not going to explode,” he stated. “I've learned my lesson.”

“I would hope so,” David answered with slight admonishment in his tone. “My father would be extremely disappointed if you were dishonorably discharged and sent home.”

Bucky couldn't help but feel oddly embarrassed by that statement. “That's... a little...”

“Awkward and embarrassing,” David finished up for him, nodding with a watery smile quirking up the edges of his lips. “For both of us, it seems. I knew he collected and read the comics that your American publishers print of the sanitized mission reports from here, but I never had the courage to tell him that I've worked with both you and Steve. He thought I was in the peripherals of Mr. Stark's engineering teams. Said he was proud of what I was doing, working for a great inventor, even if I was always in the labs stuck in some corner, and never in the field.”

Bucky was struck with a sudden curiosity, and asked, “Why? Besides the obvious top-secret nature of our work here.”

“I don't know,” the young man answered, shrugging slightly. “Anonymity? Emily tells me that she overhears Colonel Philips' arguments over the phone about the public-facing things that Steve is sometimes assigned to do. My guess is that it wears down on Colonel Philips as much as Steve. Wouldn't put it past to assume something similar with Mr. Stark's... reputation.”

David scratched the back of his head for a moment, before continuing to say, “Also, ever since I told my father that I was working with Mr. Stark, he seemed to have doubled-down on the reports from the black market and such. I mean, none of those reports ever mentioned any of Mr. Stark's weapons, but back then, I didn't know what he was doing and why he was giving me the reports. I gave them to Mr. Stark, per my father's request, but I've never seen Mr. Stark do anything with them.”

“Protection,” Bucky stated after a few moments of consideration. “I've seen a lot of intercepted reports from the other side of the house that talk about hostile forces attempting to acquiring Stark's weapons. Whitechapel is a hotbed of dissenters; and the best place to keep tabs on the black market.”

He saw David consider the reasoning before nodding in understanding. “And speaking of which,” the young man said, reaching into a pocket to pull out a small object wrapped in a piece of paper. “I hope you don't mind, but I told my father about Becca's engagement. He took the liberty to find a sixpence to send along her way.”

Surprised, Bucky hesitatingly took the object. He tucked it into a pocket. “Thank you,” he said. “Please tell your father thank you, and that I will pay him—”

“He said it was no charge,” David interrupted, shaking his head slightly. “I was to take no money from you. Should you attempt to slip it into a pocket or even into my lab coat, I was to return it to you.”

“That's... ” Bucky began, an unusual uncertainty stirring within him, “very generous of your father.”

David silently nodded in agreement before saying, “The stories that my father told me before all of this were of his best friend and him working to stop crimes. Until what you said about being born here, I thought that his best friend had died in the line of duty. I don't know why my father never tried to keep in contact with your father, and I don't think I'll ever find out why. But, I think I learned a little more about life in general from my father in these past few days.”

Bucky saw his friend reach into another pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper, giving it to him. “If you could include this note when you ship the parachute and sixpence to Becca, I'd appreciate it,” David said.

“You finally wrote to her?” he asked, nodding as he took the note.

Bucky couldn't help but smile slightly. It had always long puzzled him as to why David refused to write to Becca concerning their commonality in having a voracious appetite for obscure words in the English language. Bucky had written to his sister about it several times, prompting Becca to send a rather thick letters of pages full of words and their definitions back – with only the message to pass it on to David.

The only answer Bucky received at the moment, was a smile of reassurance before the young man indicated that he had to get back to work. As the door to 'the cage' closed, Bucky flipped over the note. However, the lighter mood that he had been in for the past few minutes dropped slightly as he saw that the note was not addressed to Becca, but to him.

[ _To: JBB via RVB, from:DB_ ]

Curious, as he knew that RVB stood for Rebecca Victoria Barnes, his sister's full name, he opened the note. Of everyone who knew his sister's full name, it was only his mother, father, and sisters. It seemed that David's father also knew, and most likely told David. Bucky certainly never told David about Becca's full name, and Steve certainly didn't know.

[ _With everything going on, I didn't know when we'd get a chance to talk again. I had a long conversation with my father after that incident in Whitechapel, and I thought I ought to let you know of some things. My father considered your father more than a brother-in-arms and best friend. He told me that he would do anything to protect him, and by extension, his family – and I suspect that that is what he did by not maintaining contact with your father. Like father, like son, when it comes to the matters of the heart, I suppose. He was glad to hear that I took your advice about Emily. So, thank you, for everything._ ]

As somewhat cryptic as it was, it was enough for Bucky to be able to read between the lines. He couldn't help but wonder how his father would have reacted if David's father had ever said those three words. But from the letter, it seemed that those words had never been uttered.

It also seemed that David's father transformed it into protecting the Barnes family instead. David's father had been lucky to have withheld himself from uttering those words, as Bucky himself knew just how cruel and hate-filled James Barnes, Sr. had been. But he could never tell anyone that.

Bucky couldn't help the sad smile that briefly appeared, before he folded the note back up and pocketed it. He would have to burn it later. Fate...was a constant, vicious, and vindictive bitch—

“A love letter from a rival?”

Bucky nearly dropped the tools he had picked up to begin disassembling his sniper rifle. He was usually not that easily startled, and this was only the second time in very recent memory that he had been.

“Hi,” he managed to say without stammering.

For the life of him, he didn't know why his heart was thudding a little extra hard, even after he had calmed himself. Michael was standing outside of 'the cage', next to the area where the analysts usually filed their completed paperwork and reports.

“So, love letter?” Michael asked again, pointing to the pocket where Bucky had tucked Becca's sixpence and the note away.

“Present for my sister from one of her pen pals here,” he answered, patting the pocket.

“Really?”

It was clear, not only from the skeptical tone that Michael put in that one worded question, but also from his expression that the SOE agent was not buying the excuse. Before Bucky could answer though, he saw Major Creighton walk past without a glance towards either of them. It was clear that the Foreign Office representative was headed towards Philips' office, given the hall that Creighton turned towards as soon as he cleared the main area.

“This isn't a social call, is it?” Bucky asked instead, frowning slightly.

“Alas, I wish it were,” Michael answered, before pointing towards 'the cage' door. “May I enter, or are we going to continue to talk as if you're a convict stuck in a jail cell, and I'm your lover trying to break you free.”

Clear anger swept through Bucky, overriding the brief panic that had risen with Michael's words. He had thought that Michael had promised not to say or allude—

“Relax. This particular area is acoustically nullified. No one can hear us. There are also two frosted glass-like partitions in the main area that makes it difficult to see who is standing where I am standing. No one can read mine or your lips,” Michael interrupted, pointing to the ceiling, then towards where some of the code breakers and analysts sat.

“Except for those who walk past,” Bucky stated.

“I'm aware that we're in public,” Michael solmenly answered. “I'm not going break my promise to you, Bucky.”

As much as Bucky wanted to be angry at Michael for being so reckless with his words, he knew that the SOE agent was right. No one had been within hearing vicinity to hear Michael's words. Acoustically, this particular area was nullified – which was why Peggy chose it to occasionally tell him certain information, whenever they were investigating something. Visually, there were the two frosted glass partitions that had been erected to keep those in the main area from being too distracted by people walking by.

“Come in, then,” he said. It would look downright odd for Michael to continue to talk to him as if he were stuck in a jail cell, with Michael looking in.

Opening 'the cage' door, he stated as Michael stepped in, “Don't touch anything here without asking me first, please.”

“Breaking the rules in plain sight by having me in here, Bucky?” Michael asked, smirking slightly. Bucky closed the door and returned to where he had been working on disassembling his sniper rifle.

“No,” he answered, as Michael took the seat that David had vacated. “We occasionally get a brass who acts like a magpie when eyes are set on this place. Philips occasionally allows them in, but asks me to supervise.”

“With all of the bright and shiny objects that they already carry upon them, and they're _still_ attracted to firearms? Next thing you know, the brass will attempt to fly to the sun like Icarus.”

Bucky couldn't help but snort in laughter, his initial irritated mood at Michael completely swept away. The briefly elated mood was short-lived though, as he asked, “So, what are you and Major Creighton doing here?”

“Creighton's got some business to discuss with Philips before we're to attend the briefing that he's putting together,” Michael answered.

“Briefing?” Bucky questioned, frowning slightly.

He couldn't help but wonder if it was the same briefing that Philips had mentioned that would happen soon. It had already been over three hours, but that had been the minimum amount of 'rest' time given to the Commandos.

“Honestly, I don't know what's going on, except that I was ordered by Creighton to attend,” Michael answered. “Maybe it'll be a joint-mission with Peggy?”

Bucky remained silent on that. He could provide no good answer anyways, as what he knew was that they had all been measured and outfitted for what looked like civilian uniforms. Steve was the only one who had been measured for what seemed to be like a full military dress uniform. Whatever Philips was having them do on the next mission, it was clear that it was infiltration.

“Do you need help cleaning the weapons?” Michael asked a few moments later.

“What's your qualifications?” Bucky asked.

In response, he saw Michael get up and go over to the crates. With a nod from Bucky, he saw him take one of the pistols out and bring it back. Silently, Bucky watched him take apart the pistol with expert accuracy; not to mention that he was fast in taking it apart. Every piece was set down in a neat and orderly fashion.

“That good enough for you, Sergeant?”

Bucky couldn't help the grin that had risen in response to the slightly challenging tone he heard from Michael. There was an intensity in the SOE agent's eyes though, that spoke of a more playful, flirty kind of challenge than what had been said.

“Good enough for pistols, Agent,” he answered in a calm tone. He had somehow managed to keep his slight surprise at the flutter in his stomach in response to what he saw in Michael's eyes, from coloring his tone.

After he pointed out the locations of where the necessary items needed to clean the weapons were, he returned to taking apart and cleaning his sniper rifle. He heard and saw Michael walk around, gathering the necessary materials, before returning to sit across from him.

“Did you really forget that I was in infantry for about a year?” Michael conversationally asked after a few minutes of the two of them working in silence.

“No,” Bucky answered, shaking his head slightly. “I remember. You joined the SOE after...” he trailed off.

He knew that to finish that statement would only bring up bad memories for Michael. It was enough that he himself had managed to temporarily close the door again on what he had experienced in the last mission. He didn't want to dredge up bad memories for Michael – not after learning that Michael had joined the SOE after Dunkirk.

“I'm no longer qualified to handle rifles, since its easier to conceal pistols. It's what the agents are usually trained with anyways,” Michael stated, showing no signs of discomfort.

“Walther PPK?” he asked, curious. He remembered hearing from Steve that Peggy used that kind of pistol to shoot HYDRA agents in Brooklyn.

“Berettas, mostly,” Michael answered. “Some call them ladies' guns, but they're small enough to conceal without much trouble.”

“Peggy used a Walther PPK against the HYDRA agents who assassinated Dr. Erskine,” Bucky said.

“I Willed that Walther to her,” Michael admitted, as Bucky glanced up for a moment to see him flush pink in embarrassment. “But I'm glad she used it to great effect. Or so she told me.”

“Moving target, and through a windshield no less,” he answered, nodding in agreement.

Bucky had read the report – not heard it from Steve – that Peggy had shot an escaping HYDRA agent ensconced in a car with precision. That kind of shot was difficult to do with a regular rifle – but for a pistol shot, it was almost impossible.

“I heard what happened on your most recent mission,” Michael quietly said after a few minutes of the two of them working in relative silence. “I'm sorry.”

Bucky remained silent for long while. There was nothing conducive that he could say. He had already taken out his anger on a couple of tins on the airplane, yelled his frustration out, and even tried to find answers with Steve, when he knew he couldn't. They had saved those they could, with the information they had.

While a part of those deaths could be blamed on bad intelligence from SIS and OSS verification, the other part was all blamed on HYDRA. It was the bad intelligence from the two organizations that concerned him more, than HYDRA's machinations. As much of a rivalry that the four groups had with each other, they were still working towards the same goal – to win this war.

“We'll get the bastards,” he said after a moment, as he felt Michael's concerned eyes on him. “One way or another, we'll get them.”

He felt Michael place his hand on right shoulder, squeezing it slightly in comfort and solidarity. Everything else that he wanted to say about that mission slipped away as the simple action was enough to calm and temporarily drive away the memories again. Bucky silently nodded his thanks, and a moment later, Michael withdrew his hand.

More minutes passed in peaceful silence between the two as they worked to clean the weapons. By the time Bucky was done cleaning his sniper rifle and was ready to put it back together, Michael had gotten through five of the seven pistols.

“What did you name the rifle?” Michael suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

Bucky paused in reassembling his rifle as he looked up to see Michael faintly smiling at him. “You seem to tend to it with a lot more care that I've seen other soldiers give to their weapons,” Michael continued. “It's special, and it's certainly what I would call your 'signature' weapon. Akin to the kings of old naming their swords, or even the legends of King Arthur and the mighty Excalibur.”

“Well, it's certainly _not_ Excalibur,” Bucky dryly answered, chuckling. He patted the barrel of his sniper rifle, saying, “Her name is Vera.”

“Truth, or faith?” Michael asked. “At least in Latin or Russian. I've been learning some Russian since Shostakov left.”

“Russian,” he answered, slightly curious yet a little apprehensive at the same time.

Philips' assignment to him to vet Michael had come rushing back. He had nearly forgotten that he still needed to report on his progress to his commander. Yet, he didn't know why Michael's question had brought up a small sliver of apprehension within him.

The last time he had been asked about his rifle's name had been by David. That had not caused the same feelings within him as it did now. Nevertheless, it looked as if Michael was waiting for an answer.

Therefore, Bucky decided to tell him the same story he had told David, saying, “Years ago, there was a story that my mother used to tell me. It was about a young girl who ran away from home in Petrograd, Russia, to live the way she wanted to, free from the confines of her birth. Her name was Vera, and her journey to freedom was harsh and full of dangers. It always stuck with me that even though it was a story, she had survived so many obstacles in her life. My mother said that it was because the girl faced each obstacle head-on and did not waver, and always struck true.”

“< _Everything comes in time to him who knows how to wait._ >” Michael stated in Russian after a moment.

Bucky blinked in surprise, apprehension fading away. “That's...” he began.

“< _Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind._ >”

He couldn't help but bark in laughter, trying to cover the brief fluttering feeling in his stomach, again. “And now you're just quoting Shakespeare in Russian at me,” he said, shaking his head.

“It's a lovely name for a rifle, especially with the reputation that Peggy tells me that you've cultivated behind the scope,” Michael stated. The seriousness of his expression did not last though, as Bucky saw him smile before saying, “And that reputation really cannot be compared to what your American comic strips depict.”

Bucky's face fell, as he felt himself flush in embarrassment. “You did not—”

“Blame Peggy,” Michael said, chuckling. “She told me to read them—”

“Blame me for what?” Peggy's voice cut through Bucky's embarrassment and Michael's teasing laughter.

Both he and Michael looked up to see Peggy and Steve stopping next to 'the cage', having shed their winter coats. “For telling your brother that there are comics published about Captain America and the Howling Commandos, Carter,” Bucky managed to say without spluttering. “Seriously, first you, then David's father are mentioning—”

“And now you know how I feel about those comics... most of the time, Buck,” Steve said, grinning.

Bucky gave his best friend an annoyed look, clearly not happy with the lack of support. Yet, he supposed that he did deserve the lack of support in his halfhearted protests. It wasn't that he didn't like the way he was depicted in the weekly strips that were published in newspapers, it was that he'd rather not be associated with his 'character' in the strips as real.

He'd rather be anonymous in name, and let his actions in the field speak for themselves.

Bucky knew that he just had the good fortune that the publishers had lowered his 'character' age. The artists had also not drawn him as close to real-life as they did Steve. It was a caricature of him, but one that he was able to distance himself, and allow people to pretend that 'Bucky Barnes' in the comics was a fictional character.

“Refuge in audacity,” Peggy stated in a dry tone, “is not a way to escape some of your duties, Sergeant. One of these days, Colonel Philips might even consider sending you with Steve to a function, dressed as your comics counterpart.”

Bucky frowned as he heard Michael and Steve laugh. “Stark's domino mask makes me vomit, Carter. And there ain't no way I'm obeying an order that makes me wear tights or stockings.”

“Regardless, you do have orders to attend the next briefing,” Peggy stated after a few moments, sobering them up.

“So it's a joint SSR-SOE mission?” Bucky asked before Steve or Michael could do so.

“Apparently,” Peggy answered, nodding. “Falsworth and the others should be returning from the pub... right... about now.”

Right on cue, Bucky and the others heard the clatter of footsteps on the stairs that descended into the main area of headquarters. Groans and some protests followed the noise, as the other Commandos, not drunk, but clearly wanting to remain at the pub, clambered down the stairs.

Bucky quickly reassembled his sniper rifle to the point where he was able to put it to the side, so that any others who wanted to use the work bench could. He then followed Michael out and locked the caged door behind him.

He joined Peggy, Steve, Michael, and the others – all of them wondering what this unprecedented joint SSR-SOE mission was about.

* * *

There was a certain sense of exhaustion on every single Commando sitting around the briefing table, including Steve. It was not just the visible lines that Peggy saw on them, but in their eyes. What had happened in their latest mission seemed to add an ever-growing weary weight upon them.

Yet, they still did their duties. Still went out to defeat the impossible. Still brought hope to the world, when the world around them was crumbling in fire. They still inspired where they went, and kept the hurt, the pain, and the darkness they saw to themselves.

Peggy knew that one day, that darkness would come back and consume them, but for now, they were still the light in the darkness of this horrendous war. And they were the light that would be shined upon this meeting between Shostakov, SIS, OSS, and Allied Command.

“First off, let me say that unusual circumstances have forced us to take this route after we've exhausted every other route,” Philips began, pointing to both him and Fred.

Peggy saw her former fiance nod once in agreement. It was an unusual circumstance that had necessitated the SOE and SSR combining forces, but she had not expected Fred to attend such a briefing. She had thought – and read – that since his transfer from the Home Office to Foreign Office, that Fred leaned more towards what SIS usually did.

The many social connections that Fred had, had lent him more towards operating and controlling SIS agents, not SOE agents. She had initially been surprised that Fred had shown up to evaluate Michael all those weeks ago. Nevertheless, she had supposed it was because he was not directly affiliated with either the SIS or SOE, that he had been assigned the task.

“As such, this is a voluntary mission for all of you,” Philips continued after a moment. “Reports have stated that SIS and OSS field agents confirmed that there is a super-weapon in the region of interest. SIS and OSS field agents are working to try to find some non-confrontational way of securing the weapon. With that confirmation, Shostakov is meeting with members of Allied Command and intelligence organizations tomorrow. We, along with the SOE have not been invited to this meeting. Therefore, Major Creighton and I have agreed that we will be covertly infiltrating people into the meeting.”

Peggy glanced around the table, taking in everyone's reactions – including Howard and David. The two engineers had only been briefed by Philips to bring certain gadgets with them to this meeting, nothing else. Steve had been the only one she had told about this in advance. Apart from him, Philips, and Fred, everyone else had varying degrees of surprise laced with worry and concern on their expressions.

“Voluntary,” Philips repeated. “We won't force any of you to participate if you do not want to. We are not authorized to do this by any command structure. Leave the table now, if you don't want to be party to this.”

Silence answered the SSR commander's words. Steve and the others were flicking their eyes towards each other, while a couple of the Commandos shifted slightly in their seats. Even Lorraine looked slightly unsure, but did not move. Just as the silence began to stretch a little too long, Peggy saw Steve fold his hands together and rest them on the table.

“Sir,” Steve began, “I think I speak for all of us, when I say: we're volunteering for this mission.”

“Lorraine, pass onto Captain Farrow and Lieutenant Meyers that they are 'go' for the linens,” Philips ordered.

The secretary-spy nodded once before getting up and leaving. Farrow and Meyers were the Logistics officers who were coordinating the uniforms that the Commandos would be wearing.

Though they had been outfitted for the uniforms before the meeting, Peggy knew that Philips had told the officers to hold off on tailoring the uniforms. She had not known that Fred had been attempting to seek other avenues for this infiltration mission – until Philips had stated that all avenues except for this one had been closed.

“The meeting between Shostakov and other parties will be happening at the Savoy,” Fred began after Philips had gestured for him to begin the briefing. “Due to some prior SOE activities, we have already secured rooms there, and will be using those rooms as a base of operations. Our goal is not to disrupt the meeting, nor make ourselves known to those in attendance. It is only to collect information.”

Falsworth raised a slight hand as soon as Fred paused. At Fred's nod, Peggy heard Falsworth ask, “Pardon me, but why? Are we not expecting reports, even if redacted, from the other organizations about this meeting?”

“We do,” Philips answered, nodding. “Your report about the regional map from your last mission was not the only inconsistent piece of intelligence that we have been receiving from the OSS and SIS lately. Contacts and informants for not only the SSR and SOE, but also parts of Atlantic Command have shown some evidence of it. Several other SSR teams in the past few days have also reported minor mistakes in their briefings or maps. Unfortunately, your mission was the first to report casualties.”

“So there's a leak or a mole somewhere?” DumDum asked, as Peggy saw some uncertain looks flash across their faces.

“Sir, if I may?” Peggy asked, knowing that there needed to be a precise explanation to assuage the Commandos. Starting a panic among the most visible group in the SSR about a mole or leak would just be detrimental to their fight against HYDRA in the long-term.

At Philips nod, she explained, “It's mostly political. OSS and SIS have long considered us and the SOE to be troublemakers. The Limehouse Basin incident just gave them fuel for the fire, and they brought their concerns about our interference with domestic issues up to Atlantic Command. Atlantic Command did not intervene, and thus, they most likely escalated it to Allied Command. There's inferred evidence, but no definitive proof that Allied Command ordered Atlantic Command to withhold knowledge of this meeting from us.”

“Their petty politics got innocent people killed,” Steve angrily stated before the others could.

“It's being taken care of, Captain,” Philips answered in a tight tone.

Peggy could see Steve's jaw tighten, a sign that he wanted to say what he wanted to say, but knew that his words would get him into a lot more trouble. She could see him weighing the options for a moment, before finally stiffly nodding once.

She felt for him, and she wanted to give him reassurance that Philips was indeed 'taking care of it', but knew that it was not enough. She knew that Philips was as furious, if not even more than Steve that the ridiculous political game that the SIS and OSS were engaged in, against the SOE and SSR, had resulted in innocent deaths.

“Then why the fuc—hell,” Bucky spoke up, amending his curse at the last moment, “are they not taking Limehouse seriously? Did no one read the report that stated everyone there heard that soldier say 'Hail HYDRA'?”

“That's also being taken care of, Sergeant Barnes,” Fred surprisingly spoke up, tone booking no argument or further queries into that avenue.

“Any other concerns?” Philips asked after a moment.

The Commandos looked like they wanted to argue what had happened and why some more, but Peggy saw Steve shake his head slightly. It was an indication to the others that though they had their concerns, this was not the time and place to do so. While not akin to airing dirty laundry, Peggy was glad that Steve was smart enough to know that even if they had good relations with the SOE, they were still two different intelligence organizations – with two different modus operandi.

“Commandos, except for Barnes and Rogers,” Philips began after a few moments of silence. “You will be infiltrating as hotel staff during the meeting. Your job will be to monitor and discreetly listen in whenever possible, to what is being discussed outside of the main meeting. You are to also monitor what the Soviet delegation is doing whenever they're not in a meeting.”

“Barnes and Carter... the younger,” Philips continued after receiving nods from the Commandos. It seemed that the SSR commander had also realized that both Peggy and her brother were 'Agent Carter', and thus had to amend how he addressed either of them.

“You'll be behind scenes in the monitoring room with Major Creighton and I,” Philips said. “Both of you will be providing real-time translations and verification from the Russian delegation. In the event that Shostakov and any of his delegation separates we'll need translations from them.”

Peggy nodded. She caught Bucky's nod at the task they both had been given, with a seriousness that she knew was the NCO's true self. Despite his temper that occasionally burst out, seemingly flippant adherence to the chain of command in most instances, Bucky took his duties seriously when the time came.

“Sir,” DumDum asked, raising his hand slightly.

“Lieutenant,” Philips stated, nodding for the officer to speak.

“So say Shostakov is going to take a piss. Do you want one of us to follow him in? I mean, a man and his business...” DumDum asked, looking unsure.

“Yes,” Philips answered as if it were another question that deserved such a simple answer.

Peggy saw the slightly uncertain looks among the Commandos. They were first and foremost, soldiers, not infiltrators. Peggy understood why they would be uncomfortable and even unsure in such a situation. However, she could infer Philips' reason as to why he wanted the Commandos doing something like this – they saw things differently than a room full of intelligence personnel.

“Now—” Philips continued after a moment.

“Pardon the interruption,” Fred spoke up. Peggy saw her commander glance over at Fred with a mild expression on his face. “But I believe that given the circumstances, an explanation as to why they must follow a person of interest into a public toilet is warranted.”

Peggy saw Philips open his hands up for a moment, indicating that Fred was allowed to speak. Fred then said, “The best place to clandestinely exchange information is in an area where most people would not normally do so – a private area. A bedroom, with the usual bedroom 'politics', or in a public toilet, where most people are expected to keep to themselves. Since it is highly unlikely that Shostakov or any of his people would be engaged in 'bedroom politics', a public toilet is the most likely place.

“You don't have to be standing next to, or following a person of interest into the toilet. The simplest thing to do is watch how much they drink and estimate when they may go use the toilet. Then, position yourself at the wash when they arrive, and discreetly listen in.”

“Huh,” Morita hummed, nodding in agreement with the explanation. A few moments later, the other Commandos nodded as well – more confident now.

Peggy couldn't help but smile at the explanation. It was something similar that she would have said, had Fred not interrupted. It was also something she had not expected her former fiancee to say or know about. He had not been the 'crafty' kind of person she had known when they had been engaged. He had always been straightforward and personable with everyone that he met – not the type suited for 'dirty' field work.

“Thank you, sir,” Steve spoke up, as Peggy glanced over to see him nodding.

The feeling of goodwill hung in the air for a few moments longer before Philips broke it, saying, “Now, Agent Carter, the elder—”

“Old man,” she heard Bucky sarcastically whisper low enough that it didn't seem that Philips had caught it.

Bucky sat on her left and not next to Steve, on Steve's right. As much as the slightly unusual seating arrangement was a surprise to her, she fought to keep a straight face. She also saw her brother fight to keep himself from laughing at the comment that Bucky had made – and boy was Michael struggling.

“—will be infiltrating under a disguise,” Philips continued to say. “I'll leave the cover story and disguise up to your discretion, Agent. I've passed along a report to Major Creighton on whom we could confirm who is attending the function, so tailor your infiltration to that.”

“Understood, sir,” Michael answered, having mastered himself the instant Philips had directed his attention onto him.

Still, Peggy couldn't help the fond smile that crept up her lips. It was partially due to the pride she felt for her brother and what he did. It was also for the fact that she had not expected Michael to strike up a fast friendship with Bucky.

Since Michael's return from Dunkirk and joining of the SOE, she had seen him become more withdrawn and seemingly friendless. She knew that he had lost his dearest friend at Dunkirk, but to see him now, healing and laughing – even trying to conceal it at the moment – heartened her. Perhaps there was some justice in the world where there were too many injustices, when it concerned matters of the heart.

“Rogers,” Philips directed his attention to Steve. “Yours is the only invitation that we managed to secure through proper channels. Apparently, having Captain America in an Allied intelligence meeting may cause people to behave. You're a part of the Atlantic Command delegation. You'll report to Colonel Davis tomorrow morning at 0600 in the lobby of the Savoy.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve crisply answered.

Philips paused for a moment, folding his hands together before asking, “Any questions on the assignments?”

Silence and a few shaking heads answered their commander's question. Philips then nodded to where Howard and young David were sitting, with a rather large suitcase between them on the table. “As to how we'll be monitoring the situation from the command post, that's where Mr. Stark comes in.”

Peggy saw Howard flip the suitcase down onto the table, opening it with a slightly grand flourish. She saw David trying to not answer the unnecessary flourish with a slight roll of his eyes. Clearly, the young engineer had been spending a little too much time under the influence of Bucky's sarcastic response to over-the-top things.

“Ladies and gents,” Howard began, addressing the fact that Lorraine had returned just as Howard was beginning his briefing. “I give you, a two-way communication system, powered by HYDRA technology.”

David pulled out the small devices and began to pass them around. Peggy received hers, and it looked like there was a bud for the ear and a hook that went around it. There was also a thin wire attached to it that was attached to what looked to be one of the smaller, blue-glowing modules that powered HYDRA's pistols. A second wire led from the module to an impossibly small microphone-like bud. It looked similar to the small, concealed communications system that she knew David had been trying to develop and improve for the past few months.

“Thanks mostly in part to David's efforts, we've finally been able to create these two-way systems for communications and monitoring purposes. You'll be able to hear commands from whomever is speaking into this system. You can also reply via the microphone, and it will be able to pick up other speakers within a few feet vicinity.”

There were more than a few whistles of surprise and exclamations at just how small the devices were. While Peggy was surprised at just how fast the device had been shrunk, improved, and modified, she was even more surprise that Howard was not taking credit for it. It was quite unlike her friend to do so, and she was not the only one to have picked up on that.

Philips had expected Howard to take credit, and she saw a mild look of surprise on his face as he nodded. “Life expectancy of the devices and range?” the SSR commander asked.

“Two-and-a-half city blocks, maximum, sir,” David spoke up, after Howard gestured for him to speak. “We ranged tested up to about five stories. Life expectancy for the power source is eighteen hours, if it is left continuously on. I would not recommend spilling any liquids on it – it will short out the system, making it completely irreparable.”

“David will have extra power sources with him, should this meeting last a few days,” Howard stated, patting the suitcase. Peggy could only assume that some system of a sort was boosting or amplifying the signal so that the frequency could not be picked up by other radios.

“Allied Command's Ardennes request?” Philips asked.

“Yes, sir,” Howard answered. “The timetable was accelerated.”

“Understood,” the SSR commander answered.

Though Peggy was aware of what was going on in the Ardennes region, whatever Howard was being requested for was a US Army matter, and at the moment, of no concern to the SSR. However, it meant that Howard was not going to be in the SSR base or on any SSR-related mission for at least the next few days.

Philips returned his attention to the table a moment later, as Peggy heard him ask, “Any question on the mission, its objectives, or otherwise?”

A few of the Commandos were shaking their heads, but it was Steve who asked, “What is the likelihood that what happened after the first meeting may happen again? HYDRA aircraft and all?”

“Unknown, Captain,” Philips answered. “But just as likely as it was. That's also another reason why we emphasized that this is voluntary. Should something similar to what happened at the first meeting happen here, there is a very good chance that we will be blamed for the event – even if we were not present.”

Peggy saw their commander fold his hands together again, pinning all of them with an hard look. “If I'm to be blamed for something that is not of my doing, I'd rather show up and save as many as I can – sinking ship be damned.”

“Agreed, sir,” she heard Steve answer.

Proudly smiling, Peggy echoed the sentiment with the others. The SSR and SOE may have ruffled too many feathers, but regardless of that, they were going to do their jobs; no matter the cost, or the loyalties that seemed to be divided among the Allies.

~*~*~*~


	8. There All the Honor Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 2, Episode 14.

**Chapter 8: There All the Honor Lies**

_November 30 th, 1944, the Savoy..._

Steve was no stranger to being openly stared at. Whether it had been before Dr. Erskine's serum had transformed him, or after, he had learned to ignore the looks. It was no different as he followed Colonel Davis and the rest of the Atlantic Command delegation into the grand ballroom that served as the meeting hall.

Davis had not looked too happy to add him as a part of his delegation, but Steve had stated that he was here only to provide overall knowledge of the war effort in the parts of Europe that the Allies had not yet secured. It was the truth, as he had been deployed more than once to help elements of the Allied forces secure areas, under the orders of Allied Command. Those were the times that Allied Command had also overruled the SSR on some missions.

One of the conditions of Steve's attendance in this meeting was that Philips had stated he would have to debrief the SSR with Allied Command sitting in. For what reasons, Steve could only attribute it to political.

As much as he disliked the SSR being shut out, he knew that he did not have a strong argument in this situation. It was also clear to Steve that Philips was trying to keep the SSR out of the political fight, and focus it solely on him – as the commander. Steve also hated the fact that what had happened in both Limehouse and during his last mission was to be used as 'political fodder' – results that Philips could use to fight back.

Steve wanted justice for those who had died, due to bad information, but that could be said for many other innocents caught up in this war. Yet, he knew that what Philips was doing was a compromise that he wished would have never happened, but had to. It was the only way they could get to the bottom of this – to win the war.

“Captain America,” Shostakov's exclamation drew the attention of everyone in the room.

Steve put on the most pleasant, but serious expression he could. He shook the Soviet commander's hand, saying, “Colonel Shostakov, good to meet you again.”

“And you as well, Captain,” Shostakov stated, though that seemed to be the extent of the English that he knew. Steve saw him turn to the two people flanking him, and said something in Russian.

“I am Andrei Fyodorov, aide to Colonel Shostakov, and primary translator for this meeting,” one of the aides introduced himself.

“And I am Alexander Lukin,” the other aide introduced himself.

Steve shook hands with both, noting that only Lukin had a wedding band around his ring finger. He didn't remark on it though, nor did he remark on the fact that the aide named Lebedev was not present.

He knew that Bucky did not believe one word of what Philips had stated that Creighton and the six other men had signed affidavits, attesting to their escort of Shostakov and Lebedev out of the country. Yet, he wanted to give Shostakov the benefit of the doubt – that what happened in Estonia just happened to cast the Soviet commander in a bad light. That it was just coincidence that Shostakov had been there.

But he had _seen_ Lebedev after Peggy had fetched them from Limehouse. Both Bucky and Michael had pointed out the man, and that was something that Steve could not easily dismiss. Something was going on, and he wasn't sure if Shostakov was just another victim caught up in circumstances.

At the present though, it was Shosakov's translated comment of, “I am surprised to not see Colonel Philips nor any other members of your SSR with you, Captain. I do hope everything is well with them,” that drew Steve back from his thoughts.

“I am not at liberty to discuss anything with regards to the SSR, but I will give Colonel Philips your compliments, sir,” Steve stated as diplomatically, and succinctly as he could.

He could _feel_ the scrutinizing eyes of Davis and others on him. Yet, he was not going to air out whatever the hell political argument was going on between the SSR, SIS, OSS, or SOE to their Allies. No matter what, they still needed to present a united front.

“ _Nicely put, Rogers_ ,” he heard Philips state over the two-way radio.

Steve was not wearing the ear bud, but had his radio modified so that the vibration emitting from the ear bud traveled up into his ear. It was fainter than wearing the bud, but it was safer. He didn't have the disguise or hair length to conceal a wire crawling up and over his ear.

Thankfully, a few more introductions were made, as Steve felt the spotlight draw away from him and focus on other important officials around him. He knew that he was here only as much of a deterrent for the other intelligence organizations to discuss more secretive things. His being here was clear enough of a message to the OSS and SIS that their political games were not going to work – not while the SSR was still able to fight.

As they began to move towards the large rectangular table that had been set up in the middle of the room, Steve glanced around to see that various aides and assistants were taking up their seats in the perimeter of the table. A few of the hotel staff were flitting in and out of his peripheral vision, but he recognized some of them as the Commandos in disguise.

As he sat next to Davis at the table, he kept himself from frowning slightly as he heard the faint murmurs of voices not directly next to him. It sounded as if they were coming from the other side of the table. Steve's eyes sought out the lips that were speaking the words he was hearing, and he saw that where he was picking up the chatter was from a man sitting between the Allied Command representative, and the leader of the SIS delegation.

Steve didn't recognize the man until he saw him lift his head up and look over towards where Shostakov was getting settled. Michael was cheekily disguised as a member of the Allied Command delegation, and had managed to wedge himself between two interesting conversations.

Though Steve tried not to react to what he was hearing from both representatives – especially about the SSR and SOE – he could hear the faint grumbles from others on the team. It was only a sharp order of silence across the radio by Philips that the rest of the Commandos quieted down.

Shortly thereafter though, discussions between Shostakov and the rest of them began in earnest.

* * *

_Later, at the SSR-SOE Joint Mission Control, the Savoy: Room 312..._

It was only when Philips reached over and flipped a switch on the side of the briefcase for the third time that Peggy knew it was time to carry out the secret mission. Philips had ordered it to be done, after the general briefing had concluded. Both of them had been forbidden to speak to anyone else about it – including Fred and Michael.

Though Peggy was slightly curious as to why Philips was doing such a thing, she knew that her commander had his reasons. She suspected that because the SSR and SOE had different modus operandi, he was perhaps, covering all avenues of investigation – from the HYDRA aircrafts to the Limehouse Basin incident, and the recent captured soldiers that they had rescued. There was also the fact that Shostakov had been privy to SSR operations in Estonia, there was something that Philips was hoping to find, without interference by any other intelligence organization.

At the present though, that switching on the briefcase that also served as a sort-of switchboard to the lines of communication, would activate a recorder for the time that both she and Bucky were not present. If necessary, it would be played back later so that either one of them could translate what had been said.

The two times that she and Bucky had gone out before had not only to reconnoiter the halls, but to also set up for the secret mission. With everything in place now, all they had to do was execute the mission without being caught or discovered by security or hotel staff.

Shedding the long winter coat she wore over her new disguise – an off-gold colored evening gown – the slight chill of the air hit her bare skin, but she ignored it. Pushing back from where she had been sitting, Peggy reached over and quickly put the blonde wig on, securing it with a quick application of adhesive.

At the same time, she saw Bucky switch out the dinner jacket he had worn for his previous disguise, for a dress coat. He also finished knotting the white bow tie around his neck, before placing an adhesive mustache between the bottom of his nose and upper lip.

Without any further words to each other, or to the others in the room, both she and Bucky left. They were arm-in-arm for their disguises, acting as if they were a married socialite couple predisposed to a ridiculous amount of wealth.

As they wound their way down the halls, Peggy kept up an animated chatter about a tragicomedy play that their disguises would have come from. It was easy enough to allow Bucky to inject his own commentary or laughter, since he did not have the experience she had in disguised infiltration. She was, however, quite impressed that he had picked up the cues of such a mission quite fast in their first two outings.

They passed other couples as they wove around the halls. Some were complaining about the ridiculous amount of wait time for some thing or another, while others were discussing their curiosity as to what was going on that had half of the Savoy closed off to regular patrons.

With the hotel staff stretched thin in ensuring that there were no interlopers or civilians accidentally wandering by the meeting area, it should have been easy to squirrel away the necessary things for the secret mission. Yet, it had not been, as more than once during the first two reconnaissance trips, Peggy had spotted disguised OSS and SIS agents among the civilian guests on the first three floors. The target for her and Bucky's secret mission had a room on the second floor.

Luck was with the two of them on their third outing. They managed to slip into a seldom-used stairwell that they had been using the first two times, without being seen. After verifying that there was no one else coming up or going down the stairwell, Bucky immediately shed his jacket.

The two-way radio that he had been wearing was also turned off and stripped. It was balled into the jacket. He turned and reached up towards the grate that covered the opening of the large vent.

“Creighton couldn't keep his eyes off of you,” Bucky unexpectedly said in a slightly teasing tone, as Peggy tied up her blonde wig with a string.

Peggy could feel herself flushing slightly in embarrassment. While the walkabout that she and Bucky had done to ensure that the perimeter of the Savoy was still intact required at least five different disguises, the evening gown disguise had not been her choice.

Philips had wanted to ensure that if any disguised agent other than their own saw both of them, they would be memorable enough to not be bothered. The last thing any field operative from any of the organizations wanted to do was cause a political mess by doing something untoward to powerful and influential socialites.

“It's long been over with Fred,” she stated, using the finality of that statement to bury her embarrassment.

While he was loosening the vent open, Peggy begin shedding her evening gown, her back facing Bucky's back. She heard the noise of the grating coming loose before being set onto the ground. Seconds later, she felt the soft bump of a satchel against her feet. Without turning, she picked up the satchel and fished out the coveralls.

“Steve's going to kill me, if he ever finds out that we were stripping out of our clothes like this,” Peggy heard Bucky mutter.

She furtively glanced back to see him undoing the last of the buttons on his shirt and slinging it off. Broad, well-defined and muscled shoulders, slightly wider than Steve's shoulders, peeked out from under the undershirt he wore. She felt her cheeks heat up slightly.

Peggy quickly returned her attention forward and back to changing out of her gown. Not that she appreciated the view she had had immediately after Steve had transformed, she couldn't deny that it currently was the same with Bucky. Had circumstances been wholly different between the two of them...

“Eyes forward, Sergeant,” she said, trying to put on her sternest voice as possible.

She heard Bucky softly chuckle, as she quickly buttoned up the rest of her coveralls, put on her gloves, and stuffed her evening gown and heels into the satchel. Due to her disguise, she didn't carry a two-way radio. Though she was going shoe-less for this portion of the mission, it was nothing that she couldn't live with. She had run an entire training course in stockings before.

Peggy turned back around, only to see that Bucky was already climbing up and into the vent. As soon as he disappeared, then appeared again, facing her, she took the two satchels and tossed them up him. He disappeared into the vent with them.

As soon as he appeared again, Peggy hooked the vent cover onto a foot while reaching with her hands up towards him. He grabbed onto her hands and hoisted her up. Carefully scrambling in, she wriggled past Bucky in the tight space, while he secured the vent cover. The satchels had been placed at the t-junction of the vent, and would remain there until they were done with this secret mission.

Taking the lead, she began crawling down the vent route that they had memorized when Philips had given them this mission. While their 'walkabout' to secure the perimeter was expected to last a while, Peggy wanted to use the time more for the objective of their mission, rather than spend time crawling through vents. Yet, making a lot of noise as they crawled would be detrimental to their mission – thus it was a fast, but as silent as possible crawl for both of them.

They arrived at their objective in a few minutes. Peggy took a full minute to observe and carefully look around the room from where she was. She could see no overt signs of traps set out. Nor could she hear of any sort of hum or otherwise that would have given away that there was active HYDRA technology within the room.

Peggy carefully pushed the vent opening out, and held onto it with one hand. Bucky carefully and gently lowered her out of the vent and onto the floor, before he himself exited as well. Together, the two of them looked around the room.

There were no obvious traps, but with the fact that they were standing in Shosatkov's room at the moment did not guarantee it. Peggy silently gestured for Bucky to take the desk, while she took the nightstand and luggage near the bed.

Given that Shostakov's first aide had not returned for the second meeting, and he now had two aides in his entourage, they needed to prioritize who they searched through. Philips had made the executive decision to focus first on Shostakov. If the average time that she and Bucky took to make their perimeter rounds was positive, then they would search through the aides' belongings.

The next few minutes were spent in utter silence, save for the occasional shuffling of papers. Peggy did not find anything of use in the nightstand. Yet, she did find a few items of interest within Shostakov's belongings.

Taking out the small notepad within a pocket of her coveralls, she jotted down the information, before carefully returning the items of interest to where they had been. Smoothing out and ensuring that everything that she had moved or wrinkled was the same as she found it, she stood up.

Turning to where Bucky was, Peggy saw him standing at the desk, back towards her. There was a portfolio full of paper open on the desk, but Bucky had plucked a sheet of paper up, and seemed to be intently reading it.

Approaching, Peggy saw him shift slightly before turning and silently handing her the document. There was a clear frown on his lips that matched the concerned look in his eyes. She knew from experience that that was never a good sign.

As soon as she began to read the document, unease rapidly grew in her stomach. While it was all written in Russian, it was the contents that worried her. The details – the incredibly accurate and precise details in this document – were all about the SIS, SOE, OSS, and SSR.

Placing the document down on the desk, she pulled out her notepad and began to quickly jot down the information in shorthand. Thankfully, Bucky took the silent note taking as his cue to continue to search.

What other evidence they found was not as revealing as the first document that Bucky had found. Yet, with Bucky consulting the time they had left, they had just enough to attempt to break into the adjacent suite where Shostakov's aides were staying.

Silently creeping to the far door, Peggy tucked the notepad into a pocket and pulled out a set of lock picks. Before Bucky could attempt to forcibly wrench the door handle open, she placed a hand on his arm to stop him. She caught his surprised look at her as she held up the lock picks.

A silent grin split his lips as he stepped to the side and allowed her to do her work. Lock picking the door was certainly quieter than what Bucky was going to do. Peggy set about her work, and in a few short minutes, she had the first door open. The second one took a little longer, but opened as well.

The two of them quietly stole into the aides' room, and began searching. They didn't have a lot of time left, and Peggy tried to jot down as much as she could. She memorized others that she couldn't fully transcribe.

As soon as she was done, she went over to where Bucky was, but he was shaking his head at her – he had found nothing of interest in his area. He silently indicated with a tap of his fingers in Morse code on her hand that it was just personal letters and the like.

One of the aides, an Alexander Lukin, was married, and had carried some personal correspondence from his wife. Lukin also had some jotted notes about the mannerisms of Englishmen versus Americans. The other aide, Andrei Fyodorov, had an etiquette book in both Russian and English. Peggy could only presume that it was obstinately to help with translating.

By the end of their search for any clear evidence of Shostakov working with HYDRA – or answers about Shostakov's first aide, Peggy's notepad was completely filled. She even had to write in shorthand along the margins. Yet, there were no direct evidence found. Everything was peripheral, and could be attributed to possible black market information buying and selling.

There was nothing they could do for now, as they made sure everything in both rooms were in order, before leaving. Bucky climbed into the vent first. Peggy climbed up after him, bringing the vent cover with her again, closing and securing it behind her.

Crawling back to where they had entered, Peggy waited as Bucky made sure that there was no one coming up or down the stairwell before exiting. She threw the satchels out after him, and crawled out herself.

Together, they silently got dressed in their disguises again. The initial joviality and excited countenance both of them had were gone. What they had found in Shostakov's room was a sobering reminder of just how convoluted this war had become. Regardless of the connections to HYDRA, it was clear that with the information Shostakov had, the man knew just how to say enough to convince each intelligence organization to say 'yes' to his requests.

That in itself was incredibly dangerous.

As soon as she was dressed again, Peggy fished out the notepad from her coverall and went over to Bucky. She silently handed him the notepad. He took it and tucked it into a pocket within his dress coat. The coveralls and satchels were tossed back into vents for later retrieval, and the vent closed.

“May I?” he asked, hesitating as he reached up towards her hair.

She nodded, giving him permission to adjust the wig. The adhesive was still sticky, but after crawling and sweating in such a confined space, she supposed that it looked a little more wild than it really should have.

“Ready?” she asked after he had finished the adjustments and stepped back, having been a complete gentleman around her.

She saw Bucky take a deep breath before nodding and put on his best false smile. “Ready,” he answered, activating the two-way radio again.

Together, they exited the stairwell, and carried on with the prattling as if they had never left or completed their secret mission. There were a lot more noise coming from the enormous atrium. It sounded as if those in the meeting were on break. Further evidence to support that came from the fact that the disguised agents had left their usual posts and were hovering closer to the main walkway that allowed guests to overlook into the atrium.

Silently, she guided Bucky towards where there were a couple of other civilians looking down into the atrium with some curiosity. They stopped and leaned against the balustrade, looking as if they were taking in the noise and curious comings and goings below.

Instead, Peggy was carefully scanning the upper levels. She wouldn't put it past to have some enemy sniper positioned on a higher floor, ready to assassinate any of the people down below. Nevertheless, there was nothing that she could see.

Glancing back down, she caught Bucky performing a similar movement – he had also been scanning for snipers. She couldn't help but grin, as he too smiled. It was refreshingly similar to how both of their thoughts seemed like mirrors at times. It truly was one of the more enjoyable aspects that Peggy appreciated whenever working with Bucky.

Returning her gaze to the crowds, she spotted Steve. He was standing next to Colonel Davis, and the two looked to be conversing with the commander of the OSS. As to where Shostakov was at the moment—there.

She couldn't help but grin as she saw her brother shaking Shostakov's hand before excusing himself. As calmly confident as she knew her brother could be, she knew him to also be utterly bold and fearless. She was sure that Michael had said something in Russian to Shostakov – even though she knew that he was still trying to grasp the syntax and pronunciation.

It would not be something that would anger or confront Shostakov; she knew that her brother was well aware of the politics that governed his role as a SOE agent. It would most likely have been some kind of greeting, perhaps a gentle prodding for correction on his Russian – something that would delight a native speaker to hear a non-native speaker attempt to pronounce.

Friendly kind of words.

It was a far cry from the direct, non-diplomatic, and definitely insulting words that Bucky had stated to Shostakov's commander in Estonia. At that thought, she glanced over to see that far be it the calm look that Bucky had was gone. His expression was replaced by worry, and his eyes were tracking someone.

Peggy glanced back down, but Shostakov and one of his aides that flanked him had not moved. She looked over and saw that Bucky's eyes were still moving ever so slightly. Returning her attention to the crowd below, the only person that she could see moving that paralleled Bucky's tracking was Michael.

However, she didn't immediately ask what had him so concerned about her brother. Michael had stopped Shostakov's other aide, and had begun conversing with the man. While the conversation was not animated, it looked as if the aide and Michael were most likely speaking in English.

She looked to Bucky again—and then it struck her.

The worried look that Bucky had was similar to the worried look that she had rarely seen on him. That look had always been reserved for Steve. Bucky was only worried about Steve whenever it had to do with something about protecting him. She knew that it was akin to him expressing what he could not say out loud in words.

For Bucky to direct that kind of worry to another – to her brother... Peggy had to wonder if Bucky knew that her brother preferred the company of men. Her instincts were telling her that it was more than likely that Bucky somehow knew. That perhaps Michael had outright told him; her brother had always been bolder than she was.

Michael had always been open to her about his preferences, but she had never seen him fall head-over-heels over someone before. Looking back at the past few weeks since his rescue though, Peggy realized that the signs were there. She just hadn't ever directed her observations towards it. She couldn't help but feel an unexpected happiness flutter in her heart.

Yet, she still had her sisterly duties to do. Thus, she leaned slightly towards Bucky, placing both of her hands on his, and briefly drew his attention away from the crowds – from Michael.

< _You have my permission,_ > she tapped out in Morse code, nodding down to where her brother was. < _But if you dare to hurt him, you'll have me to answer to._ >

The answer Peggy received was a mild look that was followed by a snorted chuckle. < _Yes, ma'am,_ > Bucky answered in the same manner.

* * *

_Later that night, SSR Headquarters..._

Though negotiations were not yet complete, Steve could tell that it was a shorter meeting than the first meeting. It certainly was as productive as the first one, though there still had been plenty of side bickering and negotiations between delegates. All of his previous exposure to politics, especially with politicians and other officials supporting the war effort, couldn't hold a candle to what he had experienced.

He could only imagine just how Bucky felt during the first meeting, and felt sympathetic towards his best friend. Bucky had been utterly exhausted after two-and-a-half days. Shostakov's translator had looked quite tired at the end of the day today.

Now though, due to him not having a room reserved at the Savoy, and the SSR and SOE not wanting to stay at the hotel to draw any suspicion, he – along with the others – had returned to the SSR Headquarters. While the Commandos had already retired for the night, Steve had seen Philips silently indicate that he needed to report to him.

“They're as demanding as they were the first time,” Philips' comment drew Steve's attention back on the present. “But it looks like it matches the reports that Stark gave to me about the Ardennes.”

“Is that why he's there right now?” Steve asked, slightly worried. “Shostakov said something about the lack of supplies being sent to troops in the area, being a major factor as to why his people haven't been able to dislodge the concentrated HYDRA presence there.”

“Could be,” Philips stated. “Stark's most likely helping trying to establish more robust and secure ways to get supplies into there.”

Steve knew that his commander usually would say something more cryptic, but whenever it came to Howard, Philips was always blunt and to the point. Howard was the Army's primary defense contractor, and the SSR was not the only one to utilize him.

While Howard seemed to enjoy working with the SSR – especially given the many weapons he had modified and developed for them, Steve knew that he still had a company to run back home. One exclusive contract with a small group within the Allied forces was not going to help the war effort at home. Thus, the multiple contracts that Steve knew Howard took from various areas of the US Armed Forces.

Steve had also heard from Howard that he took those contracts to branch out and utilize what his employees back home were researching. It was to obstinately help further develop different kinds of weapons and countermeasures for the SSR.

“But nothing was said about the weapon itself,” Philips stated, looking slightly annoyed.

“Do you want me to try to get details tomorrow, sir?” Steve asked.

“Are you able to question it in a way that won't look like you're directly asking about it, Rogers?” his commander asked.

Though Steve had an affirmation on the tip of his tongue, it was Philips' glance up at him that held him back from saying anything. He considered his words, along with the question, before shaking his head negative. “Unfortunately not, sir.”

“Good man,” Philips answered, nodding in approval.

He knew that his position as a part of the Atlantic Command delegation was precarious. Any overt attempt to get as much information as possible for the SSR and SOE had been either shot down by Creighton or by Philips himself. There had been one time where both had hissed into his ear about the line of questions he had started on, during the meeting.

“Sir,” he began, thinking back on what had been said during the day. “Why won't you let me tell them that overwhelming force being sent into that pocket of resistance won't do them any good? I know that the SSR and SOE are persona non grata, but those are good men's lives they're going to waste on a campaign that will fail.”

“It's not to make a point, Rogers,” Philips stated, folding his hands together and resting them on the desk. “To gather that many men, especially with many other offensives in the works will take time. That gives us time to plan – and possibly enough time send our own teams in to destroy it before they, or the Soviets, can get their hands on that hybrid weapon.”

“Any estimates as to when they might deploy, or us for the matter?” Steve asked, finally understanding a little of why exactly Philips had ordered him as so today.

“None yet, Rogers,” Philips answered. “But if what Shostakov and the others discussed today is true, they're most likely looking at a deployment to secure all of the Ardennes and push further into east at the beginning of the new year.”

His commander unfolded his hands and laid them flat on his desk, giving Steve an expectant look. “For now, Rogers, we have plenty of other HYDRA targets to pursue. You and your team will be among the first to know when this campaign will be taking place.”

“Understood, sir,” Steve answered, feeling more confident at the potential outcome.

~~~

_SSR Headquarters' rooftop..._

[ _Everything comes in time to him who knows how to wait. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind._ ]

As many times as Bucky reread the lines on the small strip of paper, the contents didn't change. Even as his eyes focused on each individual letter of what had been written, it still didn't change. It was quite plain, in the inky darkness of night that it was written in Russian.

It had been found among the documents of the aide who called himself Alexander Lukin.

Bucky didn’t want to believe it – he had tried his damnedest to forget about it. Yet, it was still there, in his hand, with the black ink screaming at him. But the handwriting was not flowing like a woman's writing – it looked masculine and choppy, and did not match Lukin's script.

He didn't want to presume the worse. However, Bucky could still hear the haunting, seductive words being said to him while sitting in 'the cage', cleaning weapons. He and Michael had been sitting alone in 'the cage' – no one else had heard them.

The words, coupled with the paper were not conclusive evidence that Michael had been turned, or was a spy working with Shostakov. But it was close enough to be – if Philips willed it so. That was, if Bucky showed his commander the strip of paper, and told him what Michael had said to him.

But he hadn't done either of those things; nor had Peggy seen the strip of paper.

All his commander had seen was what Peggy had taken notes about; small, inconclusive pieces of evidence that elements of HYDRA were possibly influencing Shostakov’s actions. There was nothing that pointed to Shostakov being an agent of HYDRA; and Bucky didn’t know if that was more frustrating than what he had discovered and quickly hidden away.

But if there was one thing that had been made clear to him at the meeting, it was that Shostakov's first aide was a man of many faces. It had been barely visible – almost a trick of the light – but Bucky had seen one of Shostakov's 'new' aides briefly touch the gold ring on his finger every so often.

Yet, he had no physical proof; only what he saw, and that would be construed as baseless accusations. The paper he held, what he had seen Shosatkov's aide do while talking to Michael – and possibly to others – was for naught if he could not get connected and conclusive proof.

Bucky didn't want to implicate Michael – it would hurt both Peggy and Steve.

Smoothing the piece of paper out on the ledge, Bucky pulled out a cigarette from the carton within a pocket, and a book of matches. Lighting the cigarette up, he hesitated in dropping the match onto the piece of paper. As the flame slowly burned its way down to his fingertips, he continued to stare at the words.

Seconds later, he shook the flame out and dropped what was left of the match onto the rooftop. The written words still continued to stir uncertainty within him; his secret mission from Philips, and the consequences that could potentially arise—

He heard the door to the rooftop open, and grabbed the piece of paper, hastily stuffing it into a pocket. Fortunately, he was fast enough and returned to a relaxed, contemplative stance as he heard footsteps approach, and glanced over to his right.

“Didn’t peg you for enjoying a smoke,” Michael stated, stopping next to him. The SOE agent leaned against the ledge, asking, “May I?”

Bucky offered up the cigarette. Michael took it from his fingers, briefly brushing his warmer fingers up along Bucky's cold hand. The action sent a slight electrifying feeling through Bucky, even though he tried to ignore the feeling.

“I don’t,” Bucky answered. “Just needed the smell.”

It was a truth that he needed to hear himself say, as Bucky watched Michael smoke. That truth was a harsh reminder for him, and a way for him to tangibly grasp what he was going to do. All he needed was physical proof that Shostakov's aide was a HYDRA operative; by any means necessary.

And he knew that that meant he would have to go through – would have to use – Michael to get it.

“Long day,” Michael commented almost absently, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “Anything interesting from your side of the post? Creighton told me that you and Peggy were sent out for a spell or three.”

“Just ensuring the perimeter was secured,” Bucky lied, keeping his tone conversational. Steeling his mind, he took a deep mental breath and jumped, saying, “It looked like you were having fun down there.”

“I won’t lie,” Michael said, faintly grinning, “it was exhilarating. Never thought that I’d be spying on my friends and allies.”

As much as the words send a chill through Bucky, he managed to keep the smile on his lips from disappearing, and the forced happiness in his eyes from dying. “Well, I’m glad one of us had fun on that mission,” he said.

“I would have enjoyed it more, if you’d been by my side, translating as you had done before.” There was both a teasing, flirty tone, and a wistfulness that Bucky heard in Michael’s words.

It was now or never, as Bucky saw the opportunity to take the leap of faith before him. Plucking the cigarette out of Michael’s fingers, he dropped it to the ground. Not a split second later, he took the single step forward, crushing the cigarette underfoot. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against Michael’s left ear.

“< _Translating, or giving you permission?_ >” he whispered into Michael’s ear in French.

Bucky then kissed him; the chains of hesitation and absolute fear that had long governed him, broken.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I was debating whether or not to use the B5 episode titles “By Any Means Necessary” or “There All the Honor Lies” for this chapter. I think I made the right choice by using “By Any Means Necessary” earlier (Chapter 5), because it introduced and hammered in Philips' secret orders to Bucky – to do/use any means necessary to protect the SSR (though Bucky's more driven to protect Steve and Peggy). It allowed/showed Bucky the multitude of options he had – culminating in the dangerous choice he made at the end of this chapter, in an effort to complete his secret mission.


	9. Severed Dreams / Point of No Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 3, Episode 10/9.

**Chapter 9: Severed Dreams / Point of No Return**

_December 4 th, 1944, somewhere in London..._

“I wish I could tell you… I wish it didn’t have to be this way...”

Bucky slowly rose to consciousness, hearing the words being murmured with the tickle of Michael's breath brushing against his back. As tired as felt, there wasn’t a sense of exhaustion that he had come to expect whenever waking up. Never mind the fact that he was waking up in an unfamiliar circumstance – Michael's naked and warm body gently pressed up against his back, with an arm draped lazily over his chest.

Third ‘date’ – or rather dinner they had together – and they were already having sex. As much as a part of him was a little surprised at just how swiftly their relationship had progressed in such a short amount of time, he didn’t resist it.

The faster he got Michael to trust him, the faster he would be able to find out who or what exactly Shostakov’s aide was, and what the man was doing. And the faster he could absolve Michael of any wrongdoings. Bucky didn’t want to be forced to tell Philips that Michael was a turned agent.

It all had something to do with that damned golden ring on the aide, or aides – Bucky was sure of it.

Yet, the troubling thoughts aside, he still had not expected Michael and him to have sex after their third ‘date’. He thought that it would eventually happen after five or six ‘dates’. Not that Bucky had had any experience in sex, he had none at all; not with women, and definitely not with men.

It was not something he was ashamed to say, but he knew that the perception that he was experienced was there. After all, as much as he flirted and kissed so many girls, one had to be some sort of confident to allow that to progress to sex after so many dates.

He just never had an interest to take any of his dates that far – until now; until he had made his choice to do so for the sake of his mission. Michael had not made a comment towards his inexperience in sex. They only took it as far as Bucky was comfortable with.

“It… controls… my... I want to tell you, but...”

Bucky faintly heard Michael’s breath hitch for a moment before hearing him sigh and shift against him, seemingly settling down again. He was a little more awake now, but still wrapped up in a sleepy fog that felt warm and safe. Yet, the words he was hearing issue from Michael’s lips were sending uncomfortable chills down his spine.

His worrying thoughts were swiftly wiped away with the shrill ring of the telephone next to the night stand. Bucky immediately felt the bed shift and Michael roll slightly away from him before sitting up. Lamp light flooded the immediate area, as the phone was picked up.

“Carter,” he heard Michael state in a curt tone.

There was no trace of the hesitancy, the strangeness in the tone Bucky had woken up to, in the SOE agent’s voice. Whatever that had been, it was gone, and as worried as Bucky felt, it also puzzled him. Was Michael trying to tell him something, or was that the sleep-addled talk of a man who had seen too much?

He would have been expected to wake up with the ringing phone, and thus, Bucky rolled over. Michael was sitting cross-legged on the bed, back to him with the sheets and the blanket pooled to the side. Bucky's eyes roamed up and down Michael’s back, tracing every curve he could see.

While Michael was by no means overly strong-looking, there had been a lithe grace about him that had hidden his physical strength. That strength had taken Bucky by surprise last night, but had not diminished the pleasure resulting from it.

Bucky roughly tore his thoughts away – he could not forget that this was a mission. He could not forget that after all of this, his friendship – and its progression to an apparent sexual relationship – was going to be torn to pieces. That he himself was going to be the one who tear it apart.

Because if he didn’t, he was going to hurt Steve and Peggy.

“Understood, sir.”

Michael’s final words over the phone before hanging it up brought Bucky’s attention back onto him. “Trouble?” he asked.

“Field assignment,” Michael answered, shifting on the bed sightly, but did not turn fully around. There was a worried tone in his voice, to which Bucky found it slightly odd. “HQ called me in. That usually means a field assignment.”

Bucky lifted his right hand up and out from under the cover and reached up to grasp Michael’s hand. “How long?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” came the forlorn answer.

Again, Bucky found it slightly odd that Michael was speaking in such a tone. He thought that Michael loved being out in the field, and that this actual assignment wouldn’t have him sounding so hesitant. He pushed the covers partially off of him and slowly sat up, not used to his body aching in a way that had never ached before.

“SOE field assignments can last on average two weeks to several months. We’re supposed to go in, get a cover established and work the area,” Michael stated, having turned towards him a little further, but still did not directly face him. I thought I was ready to get back into the field, and then… you… we happened.”

Bucky let go, withdrawing his hand as if he’d been burned. As soon as he had been made aware of Michael’s interest in him, he had been aware of all of his actions towards Michael. It had been similar to his measured actions against David’s, so that the young engineer's crush on him did not grow. Though that had not worked out quite as well as he had hoped.

Coupled with his careful actions, he had found potential evidence of Michael being a turned agent. In light of that, Bucky had dismissed Michael’s interest in him as no more than a potential enemy agent trying to seduce him for information. A not-quite Mata Hari type, who knew too much about him, but did not want to compromise himself as well.

Bucky had not expected Michael’s feelings and interest in him to actually be genuine.

“I go back to the front lines in a day, Michael,” he carefully stated, picking at the sheets. “There’s always a chance that I’m not going to return. Not with what HYDRA is capable of.”

“I know,” Michael answered, nodding. “Creighton allowed me to read some of the SSR reports. But you’ll always return. Steve will make sure of that. And you’ll make sure Steve returns. It’s an unbreakable bond between the two of you. I don’t have that luxury in the field… not anymore.”

Anger, not at Michael, but at what the world had torn from Michael swiftly filled Bucky. Compromised agent or not, it was clear that Michael was struggling. Whether it was demons that haunted Michael's waking dreams from his time in captivity, or otherwise, Bucky couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

Bucky still had to eventually tear their relationship apart, but for now, he would listen and help. Perhaps it would make the eventual end of their relationship easier for him to stomach, if he tried to find a way to help Michael. To possibly turn him back to the light…

… if Bucky was right in that Michael was a turned agent.

… if those words from Tolstoy and Shakespeare had actually been written by Michael, and ended up in Lukin’s possession via Michael.

… if he hadn’t been such a damn fool to think he was capable of doing this.

“Michael, you will return. You will survive,” he said, reaching out a placing a comforting hand on Michael’s shoulder. “You did so by sheer force of will for those two-and-a-half years you were held captive. Return, because there are people here waiting for you to come home—”

Bucky paused for a moment, glancing down before looking up. “—like Peggy, and like me…” he continued, then faltered in his words.

It was both a lie and a truth at the same time, and he felt awful for having to say it. Even his constant refrain that he was doing this only to protect Peggy and Steve was not soothing his conscious. He wanted Michael to return from his assignment, to live. Yet to have him return from behind enemy lines where God knew what happened, was dangerous in itself.

Michael reached out and placed a hand on top of Bucky’s hand that was on his shoulder. He saw him silently nod, looking a little more confident. “Thank you,” Michael said, faintly smiling before leaning over and briefly kissed him.

Bucky let his fingers briefly dance down Michael’s arm, as Michael slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom to clean up for the day. He watched as the door closed, and waited until the shower started up before finally leaning back against the headboard.

“What the hell are you doing, Bucky?” he muttered to himself as he scrubbed his eyes and face. “Mata Hari had more charm, suave, and wits about her than you, you lovesick fool.”

Sighing as he glanced at the closed door again, Bucky then shoved the rest of the sheets and blankets off of him. He cast about, looking for the pieces of clothing that belonged to him, that were scattered about the bedroom.

By the time he was nearly done getting dressed, Michael had emerged from the bathroom, freshly cleaned with a towel wrapped around his waist. “Don’t want to take a shower here? Water might be hotter than what they provide in the barracks.”

“Thanks, but no,” he answered, shaking his head slightly. “It’s best if I leave before certain people that I know who live in this building, might see me leave.”

“All right,” Michael answered. It was not that Bucky had expected him to put up a small amount of protest, it was better for both of their safety that no one see him leave. “Walk with me to Headquarters?”

Faintly smiling at just how childishly pleading the tone sounded, Bucky nodded. It was the least he could do to assuage Michael’s fears of returning to the field. “I’ll meet you two blocks north of here.”

SOE Headquarters were to the south and east from the apartment building, and nearly due east from SSR Headquarters. Both he and Michael would be able to walk to SOE Headquarters without arousing suspicion, should either of them run into people they knew.

Yet, it was not just the illegal relationship that they had, that Bucky had to make sure that no one else knew about. It was two people in particular in the apartment building that he needed to completely avoid. David lived in the building, and Bucky knew that Emily occasionally visited her friend here.

He initially had been surprised that Michael had moved into this particular apartment building after the second meeting with Shostakov was done. There was some convenience to it, as it was centrally located from both SSR and SOE headquarters. There was also the fact that the all-women’s boarding house was across the street. It was where Emily, Peggy, and most of the women who worked at the SSR, lived.

But a small creeping worry had lodged itself in his thoughts – that perhaps Michael was working in a similar capacity that a previous HYDRA agent, Alistair Brooke, had done. Brooke had stolen into the SSR by good credentials and talent as a code breaker.

The HYDRA agent had then bid his time and attempted to steal the Enigma cipher codes to bring back to enemy lines. Not only that, Brooke had attempted to assassinate Steve, using blackmail against David to construct the weapon. Fortunately, Brooke had been discovered and killed by both Peggy and him before anything bad could happen.

It was a thought, and Bucky hated himself for thinking along such a line. He was beginning to resent the fact that he found that document. He didn’t want it to be true, but he knew that he could not ignore it—

A gentle, but deeply passionate kiss interrupted his circular thoughts. Michael stepped back, saying, “We both have a lot on our minds, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding in agreement. “Yeah.” He sighed and shook his head, making his way to the window that he had climbed into, to get into Michael’s apartment in the cover of the winter darkness. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Outside, it was cold, but thankfully not slippery. It was still dark, but there were signs of morning life waking up already. He quickly, but quietly climbed down, using the piping and building architecture to nimbly get to the ground.

As soon as he landed, he couldn’t help but faintly grin, even with his troubling thoughts still swirling around his mind. The climb reminded him of the times where he had snuck into Becca’s apartment to get help from her.

She had lived in an all-women’s boarding house with an extremely strict Matron. Bucky couldn’t help but wonder where she would live once she got married; her letter to him had not said anything about that. He just hoped that it was somewhere that she would be happy with.

_I do hope that someday, you will find some happiness for yourself, Barnes._

Falsworth’s words still echoed in his thoughts. Shaking his head, he returned to the present, and began to make his way north. It seemed that happiness was not something that was destined for him, but he didn’t resent it.

So long as Steve and Peggy were happy, then that was good enough for him.

* * *

Peggy had to appreciate the fact that it was always chaotic in the mornings in New York City. Here, in the heart of London, while it looked somewhat chaotic, there were times where it was utterly quiet with only a honking horn or two in the minutes that it took her to walk to SSR Headquarters. Other times, it was like trying to shove through the worst crowds that New York had to offer.

Today was one of those unpredictable chaotic days. And the radio had not even stated anything about any sort of attack – including those perpetrated by the V-weapons. She hadn't received a phone call in the middle of the night either. Yet, it was wholly chaotic in the streets and sidewalks—

“Looks like you need a rescue, Carter,” a most unexpected voice said from beside her. “Or a shield.”

Peggy blinked as she looked up in surprise to her right to see that Bucky was walking beside her. “Sergeant?” she questioned, wondering why he was here, when he was supposed to be on leave.

Philips had given the Commandos leave until the fifth, granting them permission to go to the continent if they wanted to enjoy a brief Parisian winter. Steve had been the one to volunteer to stay as relay, mainly because he still had people to talk to and brief in the aftermath of the second meeting with Shostakov. She had seen the Commandos leave with packed bags, glad to not be confined to the base or the city.

“I would have thought Steve would be walking you to work this morning, Carter. Where the hell is he?”

“Early morning meeting with Senator Brandt and a few others at Allied Headquarters,” she stated. “What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on leave, Sergeant.”

“Still am,” Bucky answered, opening his arms slightly, so that it made the people trying to flow past them shift further away from them on either side. “I stayed here and there. Can't beat the comforts of home though.”

At that, Peggy snorted in laughter, shaking her head. The barracks were not a comfortable area, but considering just how many times Bucky had volunteered to be the relay during the Commandos' leave, she surmised that he found some comfort sleeping in the area. It was quiet – when there weren't a bunch of rowdy soldiers filling the berth.

“Here and there,” she repeated, scrutinizing him for a brief moment.

While she knew that Bucky loved to keep up an appearance of being slightly disheveled in uniform – to entice ladies' eyes, according to him – he did look a little more rumpled than she remembered seeing him put together. Bucky still looked tired, he certainly wasn't carrying himself as if he were exhausted of the world. His shirt collar was not fully buttoned up against the elements, and as he walked, Peggy thought she saw—

“Interesting bruise you have on your neck, Sergeant,” she teased.

He immediately flushed red, surprising her as Peggy had never seen that kind of reaction from him before. There was, however, only one explanation to his reaction, and as curious as she was, they were walking in public. If the source of the love-bite was who she thought it was, then she would leave it be. She had already said her piece to Bucky about his interest in her brother; she did not need to know anything else about their relationship.

“I have some powder that may be able to conceal it, once we arrive, Bucky,” she quietly stated.

“T-thanks, Pegs,” she heard Bucky croak, and caught the tail end of him tugging up on his collar, before adjusting his sleeves within his winter coat.

The next few minutes of their walk to the SSR Headquarters were done in amicable silence. However, as they crossed the street, she felt Bucky place a hand on her arm, causing her to stop. Curious, as she could not see any sort of threat that was lingering in the area, nor of any sign of danger in his eyes, she frowned slightly.

“Your brother,” he began. “He got a call early this morning from SOE Headquarters.”

“Field assignment,” she couldn't help but murmur.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “Told me to tell you that he'll give you a call. That he'll find some time today to meet up before he leaves.”

“Thank you,” she answered, gratefully nodding.

* * *

Freshly showered, and wearing cleaner clothes, Bucky felt warmer than he had been while walking to headquarters. Though he was still on leave, he knew that he was going to stay on the base for the rest of his leave – thus he was back in uniform.

With his collared shirt buttoned up tight, and the 'bruise' on his neck covered using Peggy's makeup, he headed out from the barracks. Personnel that he passed on his way greeted him with some surprise, but Bucky just passed off his early return with a simple excuse of needing some peace and quiet from DumDum and the others.

Steve had not returned from his ridiculously early morning meeting with the brass, but Bucky was not looking for him. Instead, he headed down towards engineering – partially inspired by what David had created and Howard modified to full working order, and thoughts he had had while walking back to headquarters.

The main laboratory was already bustling with activity as Bucky descended the steps to the floor. The smell of the strong coffee that the engineers seemed to love permeated through the air, nearly drowning out all other chemical smells. Even with Howard gone to whatever the US Army wanted him for, the team did not rest for a minute.

Spotting David standing in his usual corner, Bucky approached, and stopped at David's station. The young man was so engrossed in detailing whatever design he was creating that he didn't even notice Bucky. “Good morning,” he simply greeted.

He saw David jump slightly before blinking and looking at him with owlish eyes. “Oh hello, and a good morning to you, Bucky,” David said, looking slightly embarrassed that he had been caught unawares.

It had been the first thing that Bucky had made sure Emily and David were thoroughly trained in – not to ever be caught unawares. After the blackmailing attempt, he wanted the two to be able to protect themselves in the event that either he or Peggy were not present. At the moment, it had been about three months since the last time Bucky had managed to catch him unaware of who was around him.

“S-sorry,” the young engineer sheepishly stated. “I didn't realize you'd be back so—”

As much as Bucky wanted to admonish David for only being aware of his surroundings when he was present, he held his tongue. “Next time,” he interrupted, shaking his head slightly. “For now, I have a request that I'm not sure if it's feasible to create.”

That seemed to brighten his friend up, as he saw him glance at the diagrams he was working on before rolling those up. “All right, so what do you need?” David asked.

Bucky looked around, noting that while it looked quite busy, there were still too many people about. His being down here was already unusual, but he was down here enough times to not cause too many questions. Everyone knew that he was friends with David, and also pestered Howard – with DumDum and Jones, of course – for more spectacular improvements to their weapons.

He silently gestured towards the lab that Howard had first tested the HYDRA power source. What he wanted to ask was ears-only for David, and he hoped that his friend would not need other engineers' expertise to help him try to complete the request. David got up and the two of them entered the empty lab.

“Those two way radios that you and Stark perfected,” Bucky quietly began. “Is it possible to shrink them down even further, and into a one-way listening device that I can plant on someone? Without that person knowing any wiser? And record it on a magnetic tape?”

* * *

_Later that morning..._

Though the Commandos had been granted leave outside the city, Steve had volunteered to stay behind as relay. He didn’t mind it though, as it gave Bucky and the others time to try to enjoy themselves and forget what had happened these past few days.

As soon as he had returned from his breakfast meeting with Senator Brandt and other officials, he had been told by Emily that Philips wanted him to attend the briefing that was supposed to happen in fifteen minutes. What the briefing was about, was a mystery. Seeing that he had not enough time to find Peggy and ask her if she knew anything about the briefing, he decided to go straight to the planning table.

Steve was surprised that he was not the first one there when he arrived. There was still a few minutes before the briefing was to begin, and a most unexpected person was sitting at the table reading through a SSR report.

“Major Creighton,” Steve politely greeted as he stopped for a brief moment before approaching. “Good morning, sir.”

Creighton looked up, blinking before standing up and closed the distance. The two shook hands as the Foreign Office representative said, “Good morning to you as well, Captain Rogers.”

“I didn't expect to see you here, sir,” Steve said, sitting down next to him. “Another joint mission?”

“I believe so,” Creighton answered, “though I'm not sure what part you will be playing in the mission. It's only been proposed for Peggy and her brother.”

Steve couldn't help but frown slightly. Part of it was due to the slightly condescending tone he had picked up in Creighton's words, but mostly due to what he had been hearing around the SSR in the past days.

The second meeting with Shostakov had revealed more details about the location of the weapon, but not a good description of the weapon itself. It was not that the organizations knew that Steve was a part of the SSR and would tell them – it was no one had gotten close enough to the facility housing the weapon to see what exactly it was. All everyone knew that it was transportable.

Yet, Steve still was concerned that the OSS and SIS did not solicit SSR advice or help. As much as he wanted to offer advice, it was Philips' orders to him that he refrained from doing so. He understood why – politics. He knew that for the SSR to continue to place their presence where it was not welcomed would become extremely detrimental to the war effort.

The fact that the SSR had other HYDRA targets – large and small – was the primary evidence of 'other things' that they needed to do, to win the war. Nevertheless, Steve found it a little difficult to come to terms that it was clear that there were little trust between the various intelligence organizations. What had happened—

“Hey, Steve!”

The cheerful greeting interrupted the reply that he was about to give Creighton. Both he and the Foreign Office representative looked up and to the left to see Michael and Peggy approaching. Philips and Lorraine were not far behind. It had been Michael who had stated the greeting.

“Morning,” he answered.

All thoughts about the lack of trust between the SSR and other organizations disappeared. It was replaced by a deeper concern from Creighton's words about Peggy and Michael attending this joint briefing. He knew Philips was wanting to take action in the time that it would take Allied forces to gather a large enough force to push into the fortified region. He was hoping that it would not be by sending Peggy or Michael into the region, but that hope looked extremely slim at the moment.

Peggy and the others settled themselves around the table, though Steve couldn't help but note that Peggy looked positively excited. It was matching the same vibrant eagerness of Michael. As much as that made him even more worried, he kept his mouth shut.

“The drop zone is here, in Givet,” Philips began, as Lorraine placed a flag on the indicated area. “About 11,000 American forces are billeted in the fortress, but it's the closest we can get the two of you, Agents Carter, to the target, located here.”

Steve saw a flag marker being placed in the general region where the Ardennes forest was the thickest. It certainly was an incredible place to hide a large HYDRA weapon. The dense forest made it difficult for armored tanks to move in and around, and difficult for airplanes to spot anything unusual.

“Expect OSS, SIS, and Soviet agents in the area. Though operational details have not been finalized yet, we've already begun leaking the fact that there will be a SSR operation close to the Dragon's Teeth in the same region. That will hopefully draw some attention away, and allow the two of you to slip in, get established, and get as much information as possible on what exactly that weapon is,” Philips continued.

“Understood, sir,” Peggy answered, as Steve heard Michael murmur in agreement.

“Are you going to back that leak up with an actual operation, Colonel?” Creighton asked before Steve could.

Steve noticed that Philips was giving him a pointed look, drawing the others' attention onto him. “Yes,” was all the SSR commander stated.

“How long, sir?” Steve asked.

Not that he was unwilling to extend a mission to give Peggy and Michael time to complete theirs. With the Commandos' next mission being close to the Dragon's Teeth; it garnered an enormous risk of Nazi reinforcements aiding HYDRA – just because Captain America was sighted. He was sure that his men would be able to handle most of the things they ran into, but it was the Allied soldiers along the front lines that he worried about.

“We haven't finished the analyses yet, Captain,” Philips answered.

“Understood, sir,” he answered, even though he didn't want to. It was still an unknown quantity, but Steve was determined to buy Peggy and Michael enough time for their mission, without compromising the Commandos' own.

“Extract?” Michael spoke up.

“Transponder,” Philips answered. “Stark's team has assured me that its been modified and reinforced from its last outing in Azzano.”

At that, Steve couldn't help but briefly give Peggy the same look she gave him, a slight grimace and shrug. They both knew that the transponder that she had given him before he had jumped out of Howard's airplane had been shot through.

“You will also carry an emergency radio – one way beacon though. It's been modified and enhanced from the ones used a few days ago. Engineering downstairs will have details,” Philips stated. “Any questions?”

“Have analyses been updated as to when Allied forces may be moving into the region?” Michael asked.

“Estimates still put it near the end of the December, beginning of January,” Philips answered.

There were a few more moments of silence, before Peggy said, “I think we're ready.”

“Good hunting, agents,” Philips answered, and Creighton echoed the same. “Captain, if you would please show them down to engineering and to the lockers? Transport will be waiting above ground in a half-hour.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve answered.

There was little to say to Peggy and Michael, as Steve saw Philips and Creighton shake both of their hands, wishing them the best of luck. He couldn't help but notice the stiffness between Peggy and Creighton, as they shook hands. Creighton's extremely quick glance towards him didn't help the situation either, but Steve did not say a word, and glanced away.

He didn't want to assume that Creighton's rather placid but still polite attitude towards him was a result of jealousy. But he was aware that there were some within the Allied forces who just did not like him at all. It was more prominent in the field, especially if the Commandos were anywhere near large groups of battalions. Steve did what he could, when he could, and tolerated the open dislike of him, so long as they were all working towards the same goal – the defeat of enemy forces.

“Ready?” he asked, pushing his thoughts away, as Philips and Creighton left.

“I can't wait to see all the rumored gadgets!” Michael enthusiastically stated, looking quite excited.

“Michael!” Peggy said, admonishing her brother as Steve led the way to Howard's laboratory. “Stop acting like a child!”

At that, Steve couldn't help but laugh, still feeling worried, but not as worried as he initially had been. Michael was going with Peggy, and they would take care of each other. He knew just how capable Peggy was in the field, and could reasonably assume that her brother had similar skills. He still had reservations to her going into such a dangerous place, but they _needed_ the information.

It seemed that Peggy and Michael's presence was not expected as the three of them descended the stairs. The chatter and noise that filled the air abruptly died as Steve saw several of the engineers turn from their stations.

Surprisingly, Steve saw Bucky at the far end of the laboratory. He was standing next to what looked like a small make-shift range, holding a Thompson. There was a puzzled look on Bucky's face.

“Oh, this is definitely like Christmas!” Michael's rather gleeful exclamation shattered the silence. There was a wide-eyed, almost awed look on his face as Steve saw his eyes roam all around the various tables full of gadgetry.

“If it is, then an early Happy Christmas to you, Agent Carter,” David's greeting answered the exclamation.

The young engineer made his way forward as Steve heard him briefly order the other engineers back to work, and to stop gawking as if they had never seen people before. Steve knew from Howard's ramblings that Howard considered David an excellent protege. Steve had not realized that Howard had appointed the young man as the one in charge of the engineering teams whenever he was not there.

“Colonel Philips told me to prepare pistols and small, concealable armaments only for a team, but he didn't tell me that it would be the two of you, Agents Carter sir, and ma'am,” the young engineer said.

As much as Steve wanted to stay by Peggy's side and watch her go through the weapons debrief, he was rather curious as to why Bucky was back at the SSR so early. He knew that whenever possible Bucky got away from the SSR base during leave – and almost always was the last one to return from leave. There had been times where even Steve had been worried just how late Bucky was, showing up after leave ended.

“I'll be right back, Peggy,” he murmured, as he caught her glance towards him, before nodding towards where Bucky was. She silently nodded and returned her attention to David. Steve made his way over to where Bucky was.

~~~

“Hey, Buck.”

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky answered, not even pausing in taking out the modified bullets from the box magazine. He kept his eye on his work, but peripherally, kept an eye on Michael and Peggy's weapons briefing.

“They got you back here early for weapons testing?” Steve asked.

“Nope,” he answered. “Needed peace, quiet, and sleep. I got roped into it because—”

“Because you asked the engineers for another favor, and they said that this was payment,” he heard Steve finish up for him before sighing. “Honestly, between you and DumDum asking the engineers for everything under the sun, they're human too. They need breaks, just like we do.”

“I'm not running them ragged, Steve,” Bucky answered, as he set the last bullet down on the table and set the Thompson down. “Mission for the two of them?” he asked, gesturing with a jerk of his chin towards where Peggy and Michael were.

“Yeah,” Steve answered. In a lower tone that was meant for his ears only, Bucky heard him say, “Ardennes. Reconnoiter for information about the HYDRA weapon.”

“Fucking hell,” Bucky couldn't help but whisper in surprise, quickly glancing over at Steve to make sure that his best friend was not lying.

It was no lie, as Bucky saw that Steve was not joking. Bucky returned his attention onto Michael and Peggy. He heard the worry in Steve's voice, but with all things considered, he was not surprised or worried for the same reasons. Well, not entirely the same reasons.

“Yeah,” Steve said, a hint of melancholy and anxiousness in his tone.

“They'll be all right, Steve,” Bucky said, trying to reassure him. “Michael won't let anything happen to Peggy—”

“Pardon the interruption,” an engineer spoke up, approaching the two of them with a slightly nervous look about him. “But Colonel Philips just rang down, and is looking for you Sergeant Barnes. Said something about translating—”

“All right. I'm on my way,” Bucky said, shaking his head slightly. He slapped Steve on the back, giving him a sympathetic look. “Peggy'll be all right, Steve. She's been training and fighting HYDRA far longer than we both have. She'll be all right.”

Steve silently nodded before Bucky heard him say, “Yeah. Thanks, Bucky.”

Leaving Steve where he was, Bucky made his way through the knot of engineers. With a casual wave towards Peggy and Michael, he ascended the stairs. It wasn't that he was being flippant about whatever had caused Philips to agree to send _both_ Peggy and her brother into the field, it was that he didn't want linger and look as worried as Steve was.

Bucky was worried, but it was not for personal reasons that he was worried about Michael.

As soon as he got to Philips' office, he saw his commander gesture to close the door. On the desk was the apparatus-briefcase item that contained the recordings of the second meeting with Shostakov. Philips didn't waste any time and began to play the recording.

Voices speaking in Russian filled the air, but just as Bucky was about to begin to translate, Philips held up a hand. “Report, Barnes,” the command stated instead.

Bucky blinked once before realizing the recording was a way to muffle his report from any person who may be walking by Philips' office. Every other time he had reported to Philips about his mission, it had been in the dead of night – when one could hear a pin drop outside the door. Now, during the day, the noise of the daily activities of the SSR would make it hard to discern any eavesdroppers.

However, instead of presenting the progress report about his vetting of Michael, Bucky couldn't help but ask, “Sir, why the hell are you sending Michael into the field? To recon the HYDRA weapon?”

“You haven't stated or given any indication of Agent Carter being a turned agent or spy for other entities other than the SOE, Sergeant,” Philips answered, looking quite calm with his hands folded and laying across the desk. “Unless you've found something?”

_Everything comes in time to him who knows how to wait._

_...lips on him sent warm shivers up..._

Bucky frowned, but he was a few moments too late in answering as he saw Philips reach out towards the phone on his desk, saying, “Do I need to call an abort to the airfield?”

_... let his fingers briefly dance down..._

_Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind._

“No, sir,” he forced himself to state. “Nothing, sir.”

“All right,” Philips stated, nodding once. “Report, then.”

Bucky drew himself up. He could not tell Philips what he had found in Shostakov's aide's room yet. Not until he could absolve Michael of any wrongdoing, and find out what the man with the ring was doing. Not until—

“Michael is currently living in the same apartment building...” Bucky began, crafting his lie.

* * *

_December 16 th, 1944, SSR Headquarters..._

“Mission success, sir,” Steve announced even before the Commandos had fully settled around the table. “No casualties, and everything HYDRA has been destroyed. Our boys are pushing closer to the Dragon's Teeth.”

“Good,” Bucky heard Philips say and nod, looking quite pleased, even though nothing on their commander's face said anything otherwise. It was just the tone that they were hearing that gave that indication.

It was a resounding mission success, and it was all due in part to the efforts of the SSR's analysts cross-referencing several different sources to verify the HYDRA intelligence that the OSS had discovered and forwarded to them. Areas that their analysts had marked as questionable were carefully scouted by the Commandos, before they had carried out the mission.

What should have been a simple four-day mission, had turned into an eleven-day mission. They had arrived at headquarters only an hour ago, tired but in good spirits. But there were no casualties, and every civilian that they had escorted out of the line of fire had survived. HYDRA's presence in that area was gone, and Allied forces were already filling that hole.

As Steve detailed what happened during the mission, Bucky sat back and watched the proceedings. He could tell that Steve was a little disappointed that Peggy had not returned from her mission yet, but understood that it was a long-term and dangerous mission.

Peggy and her brother were the only agents capable of undertaking the mission, to get the SSR and SOE the necessary information about the HYDRA weapon. They could not rely on information from the OSS or SIS, especially after being shut out of the second meeting.

As much as Bucky had been and still was worried for the two, especially with the fact that he still had unclear and inconclusive details about Michael, he had to put that to the side. They were trying to work towards a common goal. If there was one thing he absolutely trusted about Michael, it was that Michael would never do anything to hurt Peggy.

Once the SSR and SOE got the information, and the Commandos deployed, then Bucky would—

“Sir!” a harried radio operator shouted, skidding into the planning area. Before the radio operator could say another word, the radio that was sitting at the other end of the planning map suddenly crackled, startling everyone.

“Mayday mayday! Mayd—m—day! This is Agent Car—call— requesting—tract. Mayday—zi and HYDRA forces— ambushed and surround—”

That had been Peggy's voice they heard calling a mayday and extract over the emergency radio, before it had suddenly cut off.

It was not a chill that Bucky felt crawl down his spine, but absolute dread, as he glanced over to see that Steve had turned as white as a sheet. He looked at the radio again, but it was completely silent.

The radio operator was shaking like a leaf, as Bucky heard him say, “Sir, Allied Command received multiple emergency transmissions stating that the Germans have ambushed and overwhelmed Allied forces in the Ardennes region.”

If it could get anymore silent within the SSR, it did. Not only was Howard in the region helping the US Army there, but that was also where the HYDRA weapon, Michael, and Peggy were.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on magnetic tapes (from which a cassette tape is derived): these were largely kept secret by the Germans during WWII. It was only at the end of the war that the technology behind magnetic tapes were taken out of Germany. For the sake of this story, I'm fudging it slightly by saying that the SSR found/stole the tech during one of their HYDRA raids.
> 
> The Dragon's Teeth is also known as the Westwall or Siegfried Line, in historical texts. It was a defensive line reactivated during WWII. Also, the Battle of the Bulge started on the 16th of December. Next chapter (or two) will cover that, and may feature a cameo by Daniel Sousa.


	10. War Without End (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring a cameo by Daniel Sousa, and small recreation of the film reel scene from CA:TFA...
> 
> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 3, Episode 16.

**Chapter 10: War Without End (Part 1)**

_December 1944, Ardennes Forest, Battle of the Bulge_

The jeep ground to a sudden halt, but it was expected. Bucky and the other Commandos jumped out; this was the furthest they dared to take the jeep to enemy lines. He could hear the distant echoes of gunfire and the deep booms of artillery being fired. The dense and thick forest around them was messing up everyone's sense of hearing and ability to extrapolate the distances to enemy lines.

Behind the Commandos, a second jeep had also halted. Bucky was not paying attention to the war correspondents that had gotten permission from the brass to tag along.

It was, what it was – the appearance of Captain America on the front lines and _not_ on a semi-secret mission. Those back home needed footage of Captain America doing what he was doing best – beating back an invading force – and this unfortunately, was the best chance that the war correspondents would get.

Bucky leaned against the door of the front passenger side of the jeep, watching Steve unfurl the map of the region and laid it on the hood. Steve's compass – the one that Bucky had given to him as a Christmas present last year, containing Peggy's photograph on the inside face – had also been set up. Steve began to brief the route that the two teams would take to rescue Peggy and the others...

“ _Steve, she'll be all right.”_

“ _Yeah, mate, Peggy's tough. She'll be all right.”_

_Even with the other Commandos nodding to both his and Falsworth's reassuring words, there was no change in Steve's actions. Bucky continued to see him wring his hands together, looking pensive and nervous. They all knew that even with the greater objective at hand, Steve was extremely worried about Peggy. That in turn was affecting the rest of the Commandos, whether or not they were even aware of it._

_Peggy and her brother were in the heart of HYDRA territory, with absolutely little to no intelligence on what to expect in the area. At least they had some semblance of information on the surprise attack that had been launched by Nazi forces – but even that was extremely slim. They were jumping into a dangerously unknown situation._

_Bucky got up from where he was sitting across in the airplane taking them to their drop zone. He crouched before Steve and reached out with both of his hands. His left was placed on Steve's right shoulder, shaking him slightly, while his right was placed over the wringing motion that Steve was doing with his hands._

“ _Steve,” he said, trying to force his best friend to look at him. “Look at me.”_

_A second gentle shake was enough to snap Steve out of his worried fugue. “Steve,” Bucky repeated, as his best friend's blue-green eyes focused on him. “Peggy will be all right. We'll find her and bring her and her brother back safe. She's been trained for this. They both have. They know what to do to stay safe and survive.”_

_It was a few long moments before he saw Steve silently nod. There was still anxiousness within Steve's eyes, but Bucky could see that Steve was calmer and more in control of himself. Letting go, Bucky stood up and returned to his seat..._

… it had taken them days to fight to this position. The swiftness of the Nazi surprise attack and advance had stunned all of them. Most of it had been due to weather, lack of supplies, tired soldiers, and poor intelligence on the region. Bucky remembered passing by several companies of soldiers who looked so ragged and despondent, that even the appearance of Captain America rushing past them didn't make a mark.

“Any questions?”

The Commandos had already been briefed about the operation prior to their taking the jeep out to as close to the enemy lines as possible. This briefing at the moment was more for the war correspondent's sake than theirs. The correspondents had only caught up with them when they had commandeered the jeep.

Heads were shaking negative, and with a curt “Move out!” by Steve, the Commandos split into two groups.

Bucky, Falsworth, and Morita were the team headed to the western village nearest to the HYDRA facility. Steve, DumDum, Jones, Dernier, and the war correspondents were headed to the eastern village. Both were separated quite a few kilometers apart, but were also the last known location of Howard, Peggy, and Michael.

Transponders had been briefly activated by Howard and Peggy at the onset of the surprise attack, but signal differentiation between the two could not be done. Thus, to try to get all three of their people out and not linger in the area longer than they had to, they split into two teams.

Bucky knew that Steve was hoping and praying that his team was the one to go rescue Peggy. Not just because the correspondents were following him, but because at least Howard was most likely holed up with soldiers who could defend a position. Peggy and Michael were technically civilians stuck behind enemy lines, with no soldiers to depend on.

As the noise of the forest enveloped him, Falsworth, and Morita, the echoes of artillery and gunfire continued to ring across the canopies. Yet, they were treading as fast as they dared across the snow-covered ground. Their boots were crunching softly on the snow, but thus far, Bucky did not sense or see any threats.

Neither did his teammates, as they continued further into the forest. Time was against them, as the days that the Commandos had taken to push against the invading line, meant that more enemy reinforcements could appear closer to the HYDRA weapon. God only knew what condition Howard, Peggy, and Michael were in – and Bucky hoped and prayed that the three were still alive.

It was over an hour later of moving as fast as they dared through the snow that Bucky and the others finally arrived at the edge of the village. Carefully panning his sniper scope across what he could see of the village and its buildings, it looked eerily silent.

Carts had been overturned, and only the braying of some sheep and donkeys echoed in the air. It looked as if the villagers had either fled or had taken shelter and dared not come out – not until the distant sounds of artillery fire stopped.

Removing his eye from the scope, and pushing his sniper rifle back while drawing his regular rifle forward, Bucky glanced over towards where Morita and Falsworth were. They were all pressed up against the trees, spread out to scout the area. Neither had found any visible threats.

The unfortunate part was that Bucky knew that they were going to have to go house by house to search for any signs of life – of Howard, or Peggy and Michael. That was going to take time, and daylight was already waning.

Bucky saw Falsworth – designated lead for the team – make several hand signals for the plan. As soon as the Englishman was done, Bucky nodded once – orders understood. Not a second later, the three of them melted away from the trees. They cautiously but swiftly made their way across the town, taking shelter on the sides of buildings and where they could find alcoves.

House by house, the three of them cleared each floor, closet, basement, and attic. It was a long and arduous process, but when they got to the fifth house, that was when things hit a slight snag. Civilians – at least three families with one or two children a piece – were in the house.

“< _We are American soldiers._ >” Falsworth stated in French, removing his hands from his rifle and holding them out to show that he was not a threat. “< _We are not here to harm you. We are only looking for friends of ours. Once we find them, we'll be on our way._ >”

Though Bucky kept his hands on his rifle, he had lowered the barrel and turned slightly away from the families. Morita had done the same, though the Japanese-American had given him a slight nod of his head. They were running silent, but Bucky interpreted the nod to be a good sign that at least the civilians had not shouted or made any loud noises yet.

“< _T-to the right._ >” one of the civilians – a male – hesitatingly answered. “< _T-two houses d-down, with the w-window flower b-bed._ >”

“< _Thank you, friend._ >” Falsworth said, before gesturing for them to move out.

Bucky took point as the three of them slipped out of the house. Keeping themselves close to the exterior walls as they had done before, he led them down the street until they came upon the house with the flower bed. He passed the door, while Morita remained behind and Falsworth knocked.

There was no answer until the second time the Englishman knocked. Bucky heard the door creak open and Falsworth murmur some words to whomever had opened the door, in French. A few moments later, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned.

Following Morita in, Bucky passed by an older-looking man, who took one last look around before shutting the door behind him. Bucky kept his hands loose on his rifle as the man silently gestured for them to follow him.

It was a short trip to what looked like a locked cellar door. The man unlocked the door and opened it, whispering, “< _Allied soldiers up here, dear. Sun is near setting._ >”

Bucky could hear some shuffling noise before a woman's voice answered, “< _Thank God! Please send them down before the patrols return. I'm sure their compatriots would be glad to see them._ >”

At nearly the same time, other noise issued up from the cellar, clearly indicating that there was more than one person down below. Gingerly and as quietly as possible, Bucky took point and descended the stairs. The man who had opened the door followed them, closing the cellar door tightly behind him.

While it was dim and almost dark down here, Bucky's eyes adjusted quickly. The man's wife had stepped to the side of the bottom of the stairs, gesturing for them to approach. As soon as Bucky stepped away from the stairs and turned towards the rear of the cellar, he saw who exactly was hiding down here.

Peggy and Michael.

“Oh thank God,” Peggy exclaimed, as both she and her brother got up from where they had been sitting. Their pistols had been out and at the ready, but were now holstered.

“Just the three of us,” Bucky said, as he stepped to the side to allow Morita and Falsworth to show themselves. “Steve and the others are trying to rescue Howard.”

He did not want to mention that they had not known which transponder signal belonged to who. They had found Peggy and Michael by pure chance. They now needed to concentrate on getting out.

“Howard?” Peggy questioned, looking concerned.

“What happened?” Michael had asked at nearly the same time.

As much as that sliver of doubt that Michael had something to do with the unexpected ambush by German forces into the region, had lodged into Bucky's thoughts, he dashed it away. He could hear and see the confusion as clear as day in the SOE agent's tone and stance. Body language for confusion was a difficult thing to falsely project – at least that's what Peggy had told him long ago.

“Surprise attack on the 16th caught everyone off-guard,” was all Falsworth answered.

It was better for them to not say much about what happened and what operational details there were. They were in enemy territory, even if civilians friendly or at least sympathetic to them had sheltered Peggy and Michael.

Silence enveloped all of them before Michael stated, “HYDRA patrols swing by once every few hours. Can't seem to find a pattern to their length of stay, or when they arrive and leave. They're also scattered throughout the woods during the times they're not roaming the village.” Michael then switched to French, asking the people who had given them shelter, “< _How close to sunset are we?_ >”

“< _Close, my son._ >” the gentleman answered. “< _You best be staying here for another night. The patrols may be returning very soon._ >”

“We can't wait another night,” Peggy stated, shaking her head. “< _There are vehicles in the storage shed about five hundred yards down the road and in the barnyard shed, right?_ >”

“< _That I have seen, yes._ >” the gentleman said. “< _But—_ >”

“< _The facility, right?_ >” Bucky questioned in Russian, sensing that Peggy was trying to say something without outright saying it in front of the couple. There was a chance that the man or woman could understand what he had just asked, but it was a slim one.

The silent, hard look of affirmation was all that Bucky needed to confirm that Peggy and Michael had found out what exactly the HYDRA weapon was, and that it was an enormous threat. He gave Falsworth a look before silently gesturing with a slight tilt of his head towards the stairs. They needed go – incoming patrol or not.

The three of them had not run into any enemy forces during their advance, and thus, Bucky could reasonably assume that the push against the enemy lines that they had engaged in for the last few days was enough to draw some attention away. Not enough to alleviate whatever patrol unit swung by the village, but enough that their way in would be their way out.

The fact that they would be able to secure ground vehicles was a bonus.

Falsworth got the hint and gestured for them to move out. Despite the whispered protests of the couple, the Commandos moved up the stairs. Falsworth took point, while Bucky followed behind him, and Morita brought up the rear. Peggy and Michael followed behind them.

At the top of the stairs and back to the entrance, the couple stood off in the sitting room, watching them with some curiosity and nervousness. Bucky took the left of the entrance, and Falsworth took the right. Morita had gestured for Peggy and Michael to remain behind him, standing off into the dining room.

It was rapidly getting dark, now that the sun was already setting beyond the top of the treeline. Bucky waited for Falsworth's signal, one hand on his rifle, the other ready to snatch the handle of the door. At Falsworth's nod, Bucky did so, and Falsworth stepped out—

_Ptwot!_

Falsworth fell, the bullet from an enemy sniper lancing through the Englishman's leg.

* * *

Steve heard gunfire first, as he and the others crept through the dense forest. Gesturing for the team to take shelter, he gestured for DumDum to make sure the correspondents stayed put. They needed to make sure that they weren't running into a firefight up a few hundred yards, and dragging civilians with them.

Gesturing for Jones and Dernier to take a circling route, he saw the two nod before slipping out and away. Steve shuffled quickly through the snow, shield poised in front of him, with his pistol out. He only made it fifty yards before—

“Flash!”

“Thunder!” he hissed in answer. He had been told by officials in the CP that had been set up a few miles back, that several of the cut-off battalions were using those code words.

Moments later, a few American soldiers either crawled out of the foxholes they had been sitting in, or hiding behind tree trunks. The echoing noise of gunfire had died between the Commandos' approach and the call for the code words. There was less than half a platoon in all, as Steve saw a soldier approach. Dernier and Jones were also coming in from the sides where they too had encountered the small line of soldiers.

“Never thought I'd see Captain America out here. Guess that means that the Krauts surrounding our backs have been beaten back,” the soldier stated, holding out a hand to shake. There was no condescension or malice in the soldier's tone.

Steve holstered his pistol, but kept his shield out. He shook the soldier's hand, as the soldier introduced himself, saying, “Sergeant Daniel Sousa, sir. We've been at this with the Krauts in that village for days.”

Letting go, Sousa then gestured for the rest to return to their positions while Steve nodded for Jones to return to where DumDum was and tell him that there was no immediate threat. “We're here to help,” he answered, following Sousa to the edge of the line. “We got a transponder signal from one of our men in that village, so any information you can provide will greatly help.”

“The rest of my platoon is stuck there, so hopefully, they've met up with your man, Captain,” Sousa stated. “Fucking Krauts just cut us off in the middle of a supply run. They got off a lucky shot that hit Richardson and destroyed the radio. Couldn't coordinate with Mainesfield, my other radioman.”

Sousa then gestured slightly towards the east, where the tallest building that looked like a church, stood. To the west, Sousa pointed out a barn, saying, “At least two snipers perched on either side. No radios, but whenever the boys in there pop up for a firefight, we take the opportunity to try to smoke out the snipers. They return the favor whenever they can.”

“Good strategy, but your ammunition is running low, isn't it?” Steve guessed.

He tucked all thoughts of relief that there was a good possibility that the transponder signal belonging to either Howard, or Peggy and Michael had meant that soldiers were surrounding and protecting them. Yet, it was something he also dared not to pin his hopes on. There was always a chance that any of the three could've been completely cut off from the American soldiers stuck in the village. He didn't even know if he was going to rescue Howard, or Peggy and Michael.

“Yeah,” Sousa answered, nodding in agreement. “We've managed to identify three mortar teams, but they're out of range to shell us at the moment. Don't know where those bastards are hiding now, but they don't seem to be keen on moving forward to the edge of the village so far.”

As Sousa continued to explain what he and what was left of his platoon had observed, Steve knew that the guerrilla war that they had been waging would eventually have to turn into a frontal assault. Either the Army or the Nazi forces would be the one to instigate it.

As the noise of the war correspondents approaching caused Sousa to pause in his explanation and glance back, Steve glanced up into the grey, cloudy sky. It was nearing sunset, and soon, the ice-cold winter chill would seep in – if it hadn't already begun to do so. Regardless of what would happen, they needed to dig foxholes and get set up with the platoon here.

“Guess we have to make this look good then,” Sousa muttered, as Steve returned his attention to him.

There was clear resentment and annoyance in the soldier's tone, and Steve sympathized with him. It had not been his idea to bring the war correspondents with him, but he had no recourse in arguing with the higher-ups about it. Thankfully, the civilians had been given explicit orders to stay out of the way. Steve had also been granted the authority to shut down their filming of things, if it was necessary to safeguard any intelligence.

“They know to stay out of the way,” he stated. “Anywhere in particular you want my men and I to dig our foxholes?”

“Well, we don't have an official CP, sir,” Sousa stated, before jerking his thumb towards the rear.

“Front lines, Sousa,” Steve interrupted before Sousa could further suggest that he'd be better off sitting pretty for the press behind the front lines. “We'll take some of the heat off. Give your people at least forty winks.”

Sousa snorted, but Steve could see that the soldier was grateful for the offer. “There and there,” the soldier stated, pointing to the line next to the sniper and spotter pair in their foxhole.

“Thanks,” he answered.

* * *

Falsworth's scream didn't even fully erupt from his lips, as Bucky swiftly reacted by snatching the door shut. He threw himself onto the ground and on top of the Englishman as several more sniper shots tore into the door, walls, and curtained windows. He had barely caught a glimpse of Morita, Peggy, and Michael diving for cover. Of the couple, the woman was screaming in fright, while the man was curled protectively around her. One of them, most likely the man, had overturned coffee table, sheltering the two of them.

The barrage was over in less than a few seconds. Even before Bucky had fully lifted himself off of Falsworth, Morita was already dragging the Englishman away from the entrance by the collar of his uniform.

Whirling around as he dropped his rifle and lifted his sniper rifle up, Bucky shoved the scope and barrel through the largest hole created. He quickly peered through the scope, but only caught a glimpse of dark coattails of a sniper on the rooftop. The sniper had been perched diagonally to the left, and about three hundred feet away from where they were.

Bucky bit back a curse – if they left now, one or more of them could be potentially be killed. He didn't know and could not see any other snipers, but he had to bet that there was more than one setting up a kill zone near the area. He was at a severe disadvantage with the low ground, and there was no second floor in this house.

Even with the screams of the woman turning into hiccuped sobs, Bucky saw the man wave towards him, indicating that neither were hurt. He couldn't worry too much about the two at the moment. Given the couple's age, it looked as if the man most likely had served in the Great War.

Across from where he was, Falsworth was groaning in pain, and not screaming as Bucky had almost expected him to. It was only because Peggy was keeping a hand on Falsworth's mouth, and tried to hold him as still as possible. Morita and Michael were trying to bandage up the Englishman's leg as best as they could.

Bucky caught Morita's glance up at him and the shaking of his head. It meant that Falsworth was more injured than they could move at a good pace. Bucky quickly made the appropriate hand signals for the fact that they were potentially pinned down, and needed to get underground again.

There was a very good chance that the sniper was calling for his buddies in the patrol group to investigate who he had shot. Either the woman's initial screams, or Falsworth's cry had given their position away. Hiding was their only option until the heat could die down.

Morita gave a curt nod, and whispered a few words to both Peggy and Michael. As the three of them lifted Falsworth up, who had regained some coherency to realize a little of what was happening, Bucky quietly made his way over to the couple, and crouched.

“< _We have to all hide in your cellar. They are coming to confirm that they have shot someone._ >” he bluntly stated in a near-whisper in French.

“< _But they will find all of us there._ >” the man answered, shaking his head.

Before Bucky could respond, the man gestured towards where he kept his sidearm, saying, “< _You must shoot me, young man._ >”

Bucky blanched, quickly shoving his sniper rifle behind him and taking a crouching step back. For good measure, he shoved his dropped rifle further away. “< _What?_ >”

“< _They are to find someone wounded. You must shoot me, now._ >”

He stared at the man, baffled as to why such a man who didn't even know them, would do such a thing for them. He knew that the reasoning was sound, but he _did not_ want to shoot someone who was not hostile. The couple were not even enemies, and had generously provided Peggy and Michael shelter.

“< _These hands of mine are too old, too shaken to hold your gun steady._ >” the man stated, before pointing to his left leg. “< _There is an old wound here, brought on by the trenches of the previous war. Shoot there. It will heal fast, and there is little pain that I can feel there._ >”

Bucky could see conviction in the man's eyes, and it startled him even further that the woman also had the same look. Tears were still brimming in her eyes, but she was already moving slightly to grab a pillow off of a seat – to muffle the pistol shot.

They had no choice – Bucky knew that. The couple were offering themselves to help in a way few ever helped Allied soldiers. He hated the fact that he agreed with the man, and hated the fact that he was already withdrawing his sidearm.

Yet, as he placed the pillow on top of the man's leg, and the barrel of the pistol on the pillow, he hesitated. Bucky couldn't pull the trigger. He _could not_ shoot someone who was an innocent, who was a civilian and had not attacked him—

Whisper-soft footsteps rapidly approached from behind him. Before Bucky could react, a pair of warm hands, sticky with blood, wrapped around his right hand that was holding the gun – and pulled the trigger.

* * *

“It'll snow tonight.”

Steve was not the only one to look at Dernier curiously, wondering what prompted the Frenchman to state it. The foxholes were nearly complete, with him having dug the two for his team. Dernier and the others had gone to help the war correspondents dig their foxholes well behind the front lines – and to pass on explicit orders to not get remotely close to the front lines.

The last thing Steve needed was for an untrained civilian to get in the way or get injured. There was not enough men here – even with half of Sousa's platoon, to spare to get an injured civilian to the jeep.

“Weather's grey, cloudy, and wind is... how you say it? Steady,” Dernier continued, pointing to the sky. “Not like coast storms. This one brings heavy snow.”

“Snow's good, makes the Kraut guns stick,” Jones suggested, as Steve saw realization dawn on the others' eyes. A frontal assault in the middle of a snow storm would be the perfect cover for them to get the jump on the enemy forces in the village.

“Also makes our guns stick,” DumDum stated, gesturing with his chin towards Sousa's platoon.

“Dernier's right,” Steve interrupted before Jones could begin arguing with DumDum on the fact that they were both right. “The storm might be our only advantage. We're going in tonight, blades only.”

Three pairs of eyes stared at him with varying degrees of surprise. Steve knew that they were all used to attacking with guns blazing, tip of the spear. The rare occasion they attacked without drawing a sound was to only lay charges – and then get out before they could be discovered. What he was asking of them was unusual, even for their standards.

But he knew that it was something the Commandos were capable of. He and Bucky had pulled off several of those types of missions before, whenever they were working together on their objective, while the Commandos took other objectives on a mission. Bucky had trained with these men, and thus, he knew that DumDum and the others could do it.

“What about Sousa and his men?” Jones asked, the surprise in his eyes turning to acceptance in the mission presented.

“They'll stay. I'll brief the Sergeant on the bare bones objective, but we need to take out the snipers, first. Then we go after the mortars. After that, anything else that stands between us and our people in that village,” Steve stated. “By dawn, Sousa and his men should be able to support us with their guns.”

“Roger that, Cap,” DumDum stated, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Get some rest,” Steve stated after a moment, climbing out of the foxhole.

* * *

Bucky let go of the shuddering breath that he didn't realize he had been holding. He stared at the puff of feathers that had been blown up from the shot, before tracing his eyes up the hands that had enveloped his own. His eyes traveled up the arms and for a few moments, he stared at the rather strangely blank look on Michael's face.

“< _Thank you._ >” the man's croak, laced with pain, drew Bucky's attention away from what Michael had done – to him and to the old veteran. “< _Now go. Hide._ >” the man said, waving both of them away.

Bucky felt his sidearm slip out of his grasp as Michael took it and half-hauled him up. There was nothing else he could do, as Bucky saw the woman scramble over to tend to her husband's semi-self inflicted wound. Numbly, he took up his rifle and followed Michael back to where the rest had taken shelter.

Just before he closed the door, Michael handed the sidearm back to him. Bucky wordlessly took it, but did not acknowledge what the SOE agent had done. It was a necessity, and there was no thanks to be had. Holstering his pistol, Bucky crouched at the top of the cellar stairs, waiting and listening.

They didn't have to wait long for a soldier – most likely the sniper – to arrive. Strangely, the soldier was alone, as they heard the muffled, single pair of footsteps enter the house. Behind the cellar door, whatever was being said between the couple and soldier was indiscernible. After a few moments though, Bucky was not the only one to snap his head up at the sound of two _pop-pop!_

Gunfire – it was unmistakably gunfire – and then silence.

It took all of Bucky's will and then some _not_ to burst out from the cellar and shoot the enemy soldier dead. He could hear the creak of boots stepping on the floor; the soldier was listening for any other sort of noise.

Bucky glanced back to see that Michael was supporting most of Falsworth's weight, while Peggy had a hand on Falsworth's mouth and her pistol out. Morita had his rifle out and at the ready. Like the others, the Japanese-American's eyes were tracing the floor above them.

The creaking footsteps got closer, and Bucky drew his rifle up to the ready, pointing upwards. They didn't know if the soldier had any of his buddies behind him or near him, which meant that he was only going to get one shot – a close quarter shot.

The door to the cellar slowly turned open, and just as Bucky heard the final click of the latch fully retracting, he rammed his entire weight up and into the door. The enemy soldier flew backwards swiftly enough that there was not even a surprised cry. The rifle that the soldier had been holding flew away and clattered into the wall. Bucky didn't even wait for the soldier to land on the ground as he fired one precise shot – right into the enemy soldier's heart.

Morita was already sweeping up from behind him, taking the right to clear the area. Bucky wasted no time and took the left. Together they met at the front entrance, where the crumpled bodies of the couple who had tried to help them, laid dead.

As much as Bucky felt a pang of sadness tug at him, he roughly pushed it away. They were still in danger, and even in their momentary pause, both he and Morita were straining to hear if there were more soldiers coming.

“We _have_ to move Barnes. Now!” Morita hissed after a few moments of silence, about to go back and tell Peggy and the others that it was clear.

“We can't!” Bucky answering in an equally angry tone, holding out a hand for a brief moment to stop his friend from returning. Hearing nothing else approaching for another few long minutes, Bucky then gestured for both them to return to the others.

He stopped at the foot of where the dead enemy soldier was, and jabbed his finger at the lapel pin that the sniper wore, saying, “This fucking Kraut is part of an elite sniper unit. They deploy in teams of nine, and we don't know where the other eight are! If he doesn't report back soon, his fucking buddies are going to be looking—”

“So we set it up,” Michael's unexpected statement startled him.

“What?” Morita's disbelieving exclamation rang in the air, before Bucky could say it.

“We set it up. Make it look like either Karl or Greta shot the soldier. We'll hide here until the patrols leave, then we go,” Michael stated.

Bucky wasn't even given time to argue as he caught Peggy's glance over at him, agreeing with the idea, even if it was revolting. He couldn't argue anyways; it was the best idea they had to make patrols avoid searching for them again.

“All right,” he reluctantly answered.

Michael gestured for Morita to take a hold of Falsworth, who was fading in and out of consciousness. Peggy had already slipped to the other side of Falsworth to support him, helping Morita bring their injured friend back down to the cellar floor.

Bucky slung his rifle across his shoulder, tucking it to the side of his sniper rifle as he help Michael heft the dead soldier up. Together, the two of them half-dragged the body, and the rifle the soldier had, to the front entrance.

As Bucky arranged the dead soldier and the rifle in an approximate area where it would make sense for one of the two couple to shoot, he glanced over to see Michael crouched between the two. Michael reached out and gently closed the eyes of the couple, head bowed over them for a few moments.

Bucky briefly reached out and placed a comforting hand on Michael's arm. He received a nod in return before seeing the SOE agent pull out his pistol. Michael arranged his pistol in Karl's hand, making sure to take out one bullet to make it look like that a single, lucky bullet into the heart of enemy soldier had killed the soldier.

Wordlessly, Bucky handed his sidearm over to Michael, seeing that the Beretta had been Michael's only weapon. Without another word, the two of them got up and made their way back to the cellar. Down below, and with the door tightly shut behind them, Bucky sat with the others on the cold ground, waiting and hoping that they would not be discovered in the next few hours.

* * *

By Steve's estimate, it was near two in the morning when he, DumDum, Dernier, and Jones set off. They were like wraiths swiftly running through the open field that separated the edge of the forest to the village. The winds howled all around them, but the Commandos had faced worse conditions before.

Wordlessly, Steve signaled for them to split into pairs. He and DumDum took the sniper in the church, while Jones and Dernier took the barn. The first soldiers that he and DumDum encountered was not the sniper in the church, but possible lookouts on approach.

Gesturing for DumDum to ready two knives as Steve sought to pinpoint where the sniper was in the church, he spotted the man, crouched within the bell tower. It was only the very slight, almost indiscernible movement of someone huddled in the tower, that Steve managed to spot him. He had to thank Dr. Erskine for the fact that the formula had enhanced his eyesight at night.

Tapping DumDum on the side of his shoulder, he gestured towards where the sniper was, and got a nod in return. Slipping away, Steve swiftly climbed up the rear of the church. Crouching, he carefully but quietly made his way across the rooftop, silently withdrawing his shield. Holding it at the ready, he was three feet away from the sniper when DumDum unleashed his knives.

As predicted, the sniper was only dozing and had noticed that his comrades had fallen over. Before the sniper could raise the alarm or try to pinpoint where the attack had come from, Steve slammed his shield into the sniper's head.

He caught the body before it could fall. Slotting his shield back on the hook across his back, Steve then arranged the dead sniper so that it looked as if the soldier was positioned, but would not return fire. There was always no guarantee that Sousa and his men would be able to make it into the village at dawn. If any patrols managed to slip out of the net that he and the Commandos were forming, they would see nothing out of the ordinary at the bell tower.

By the time Steve had made it back to the ground and to where DumDum was, the bowler-hat wearing Commando had already hidden the lookouts' bodies away. With a silent nod towards him, they continued into the village.

Soldier by soldier, the two of them silently took them out – either by application of force, via knife in DumDum's case, or bashing them with his shield in Steve's case. By the time they met up with Dernier and Jones near the center of the village – behind a cleared house – the storm was beginning to lessen. The advantage they had had was starting to slip away.

Yet, with each of the houses they had all slowly cleared, not one of them had found any sign of American soldiers, Howard, Peggy, or Michael.

Even the soldier that Steve had briefly interrogated a few houses back, before knocking him out, had stated nothing. It was very unusual – Steve had seen and heard soldiers talk with the threat of being taken alive as a prisoner, or even killed by one of the Commandos. He had seen it in the soldier's eyes that the soldier clearly recognized him as Captain America. But even that silent threat had not gotten the soldier to speak.

The next house they had to clear was a two-story building that looked to be a pub or inn. There were clear signs of occupancy. Steve could only assume that this building had been made as headquarters to the group of Nazi soldiers holed up in the village. It would be prudent to clear the surrounding houses first, but Steve knew that his men were getting tired.

The cold, the snow, and the exertion in taking out all of the enemy soldiers as silently as possible, were getting to them. They needed to take out those in the inn before they could move on.

Silently making the appropriate gestures, Steve made sure that the others understood that any officers found were to be kept alive, if possible. Allied command would have use for officers, and if they could find Howard or the others in this village, then Steve definitely wanted to question the officers.

Nods of assent greeted his orders. DumDum and him took the front entrance, while Jones and Dernier made their way from the rooftop. The pincer attack would mitigate any enemy officers from escaping.

As chaotic as it was, bursting in and attacking, Steve and the others were still swift enough. Steve quickly tossed his shield in an arc, hitting three soldiers before leaping in and punching two more before either could pick up a gun. Kicking another one forcefully enough to fold and knock him out, Steve retrieved his shield. He immediately threw it again, knocking a soldier out that DumDum hadn't fully knocked out.

There was some noise upstairs as both he and DumDum finished knocking out the officers on the first floor. Just as Steve quickly climbed the stairs to the second floor, the body of an officer knocked out by either Jones or Dernier came sliding down, clearly sporting some broken teeth. The man was still breathing though, as Steve simply picked him up like a sack of grain and brought him down.

DumDum was already tying and gagging the officers up as Jones and Dernier brought down another unconscious officer. Steve silently gestured for them to help DumDum, while he brought the rest of the officers on the second floor down.

It took him a few minutes of trudging up and down the stairs, but in that time, Steve also took the opportunity to look outside for any sign of enemy forces being alerted to what had gone on in here. The storm was definitely tapering off, and by the broken grandfather clock that the latest officer he was picking up had smashed into, dawn was probably approaching in a couple of short hours.

“Flash!” Steve suddenly heard an unfamiliar voice downstairs hiss.

“Thunder?” DumDum answered, sounding surprised at the same time.

“Thank fucking God!” the same voice said, as Steve hefted the last of the officers over his shoulder, and made his way down.

“Keep your voice down!” DumDum hissed.

“Sorry, sir,” another voice answered.

“Easy,” Steve said, holding up a hand as he emerged onto the first floor to see that several American soldiers had appeared. Where they had come from was a complete mystery, as he did not recall seeing any cellar door within the inn.

“It's Captain America!” one of the soldiers stated in surprise. “Holy shit.”

“Captain Rogers? Steve?!”

“Howard? Howard Stark?” Steve questioned, handing the unconscious Nazi officer off to DumDum as he saw Howard push his way through the knot of soldiers. It was indeed Howard, as his friend unexpectedly embraced him for a brief moment before thumping him on the back.

“Sight for sore eyes, Cap, but boy am I glad to see you!” Howard exclaimed, stepping back, beaming at him.

“Where... where did you guys come from?” Steve asked, looking at the ten soldiers and Howard.

“The boys dug a tunnel from the cellar we were hiding in when the Krauts invaded,” Howard said, gesturing to a small pantry door. “It led us here, so they've been taking turns, listening to the officers, their attack plans, and disrupting those attack plans.”

“This all of you?” Steve asked, looking at the ten, bedraggled, exhausted-looking soldiers. Even Howard looked as tired as them. There was a keenness in their eyes though, and Steve did not dismiss that fact that they were now reinforced by the Howling Commandos.

“Yes, sir,” a soldier, most likely the one who instigated the code word verification, stated. “Corporal Will Anderson, sir.”

“We ran into your commander, a Sergeant Sousa,” Steve stated, shaking the soldier's hand. “He and the rest of your platoon will be attacking at dawn. Did you guys managed to dig other tunnels, or have information on where else the Krauts are hiding?”

“Tunnels, no,” Anderson stated. “But we've mapped—”

_Bzzt-bzzt-bzzt—_

Dread immediately filled Steve as Anderson fell silent. The other soldiers in the platoon were looking around, wondering what the sound was, but Steve knew what it was. His Commandos also knew the sound all to well.

Steve was already unhooking his shield from his back and slipped it onto his left arm. Pulling out his pistol, Steve was already silently gesturing orders to the rest of the Commandos. “Get your men into cover near the east side of the village, Corporal. Be ready to fire on my order.”

_Bzzt-bzzt-bzzt—_

“Yes, sir,” the soldier answered.

Steve knew that there were so many questions that he and the others of the platoon wanted to be answered. But he didn't – those questions would soon turn into fear or outright shock. He needed the soldiers to be ready before either could over take them.

He stepped out of the inn, and in the cover of darkness that was slowly breaking into the creeping dawn, his eyes confirmed what they had all heard. Reinforcements had arrived from the west, and it was not Allied reinforcements; it was HYDRA.

* * *

Bucky didn't sleep at all in the long hours that had passed. After the sniper's buddies had wandered into the house and discovered their dead comrade, there had been some angry shouts, arguments, and other choice words said in German. Bucky didn't understand it all, but knew enough that the patrol group was not happy that a civilian had gotten off a lucky shot to kill one of their own.

Two hours had passed after that. It was in that second hour of waiting in the cold cellar below, hearing nothing else except for the creak of the house settling, that Bucky took a chance and carefully went upstairs.

He only took a few pieces of scrap cloth, and what biscuits he could find from the cupboard nearest to the cellar door. He had brought it back down for Falsworth and the others. He had not dared to take any blankets or pillows that had been laying in the sitting room – lest the patrol came back.

After making sure the others had eaten, and checking upon Falsworth's condition, Bucky had remained upstairs. The door to the cellar remained ajar ever so slightly, so that he could warn the others, if need be.

It was colder up on the main floor than it was in the cellar. The winter chill of the region seeped into the house through the front door that had been left open – most likely as a warning to any villagers. But Bucky remained sitting where he was, back against the door's adjacent wall, rifle drawn up and at the ready position – on watch.

“You should rest, Barnes,” Morita's whisper to him from the opened sliver of the cellar door, partially caught his attention. “It's been about eight hours. Michael estimates sunrise in about two.”

Bucky shook his head – he would not rest, not while there was an elite group of enemy snipers out there. He had done longer watch stints in colder conditions before, though never this close to being discovered by enemy forces.

He would have already moved them out, except that it seemed that this particular patrol group was very active at night and did not find stationary places to sleep or keep watch. Two hours ago, the distant sounds of rifle reports had been heard. It seemed that the Krauts were shooting anyone who dared to venture outside of their homes.

“Falsworth?” he asked, tightening his grip on his rifle ever so slightly.

“Bad,” Morita answered. “Bullet's out, but Peggy thinks a fragment might still be in there somewhere. He's running a fever and is delirious whenever he's awake.”

“Shit,” he breathed. “Two hours, then we see if we can move out. Maybe the Krauts will finally leave to get their breakfast somewhere else.”

“Here,” Morita said, as Bucky heard the creak of the cellar door open slightly further.

He turned slightly back to see that his friend was handing him half of a biscuit. Bucky shook his head again – he had already ate a single biscuit in the middle of the eight hours. Morita and the others were not augmented, and needed to keep their strength up. He knew how to hold back his hunger and conserve his strength. Being augmented by Zola had given him that ability, no matter how much he hated it.

Returning to sitting as he had sat for the past eight hours, he ignored Morita's attempt to get him to take the biscuit. Thankfully, the Japanese-American did not try to prod him any further, and withdrew. Bucky silently sighed and returned his attention to keeping watch.

It was near the estimated two hour mark and at dawn, that the sudden shouts in German echoing outside in the streets caused Bucky to go still. “Something's happening,” he hissed down into the cellar before closing the door.

Silently standing up, he held his rifle at the ready, steadying his breathing. The shouts were getting louder, and sounds of boots pounding on the streets coming closer. Just as Bucky thought the soldiers were going to enter the house, the sounds of their pounding feet passed the house. The shouts continued and began to fade, but Bucky didn't dare move until there was absolute silence.

He waited a few more minutes as the silence faded to the cold breeze blowing through the streets, carrying the scent of firewood in the air. Finally, he knocked a soft pattern on the door before cracking it open. He was not surprised to see Morita near the top of the stairs, ready to shoot.

Making the appropriate hand gesture for scouting, he saw Morita nod once. Bucky silently slipped away from his post and quietly made his way back to the entrance, crouching and keeping himself from being seen through the open door and shattered windows.

The long night had brought in a large amount of snow into the front area of the house. The bodies of the couple who had sheltered them were already covered in a thick layer. Bucky had to stop near the edge of where the snow began, knowing that he could not step into the snow with his boots yet – not if retreat was in order.

Silently, he shifted his rifle to his back while bringing out his sniper rifle forward. Peering through the scope, he panned it around the gaping entrance. There was nothing out of the ordinary in his immediate vicinity.

Still, Bucky knew that he had heard right with what little German he understood – the patrol group had been ordered to move out. But as he angled himself and the rifle as far as he dared to the edge of the snow line, he caught a glimpse of something even more worrisome than the departed Nazi patrol group.

HYDRA soldiers.

With the departure of the patrol group, an even worse type of enemy had taken their place. HYDRA soldiers in the town could only mean one thing – someone had either seen the Commandos enter, or Steve and the others' attack on the other village had sent up a region-wide alert. The lines they had fought through to get here were Nazi – not one HYDRA soldier had been sighted until now.

But even with the weapons HYDRA wielded, they were predictable to the Commandos – especially at night, and especially in such cold conditions. The biggest concern at the moment was Falsworth – he was most likely not able to move on his own. With sunlight rapidly approaching, any movement – great or small – by them would be easily seen by the HYDRA soldiers. They potentially would have to wait for the night again in order to move without being seen.

Quietly returning to the cellar door, he made the appropriate hand gestures to Morita. Receiving a nod in return, he saw his friend slip back down to pass the news to the others. He had a plan, but with freshly arrived HYDRA soldiers and no discernible pattern to their patrol routes, it was going to be difficult to pull off.

Near-silent footsteps crept up the stairs a few minutes later. Bucky was not surprised to see both Peggy and Michael crouched at the top of the stairs, with Morita remaining down stairs to tend to Falsworth.

“I don't think we can wait until tonight,” Peggy began, glancing back down into the cellar.

“I know,” he answered, nodding in agreement. “I've got an idea, but it's very risky.”

He saw the two glance at each other before looking back at him, nodding. “We'll take it,” Michael answered.

Quickly and quietly, he outline his idea to the two. When he was finished, he waited for them to agree or disagree to it. While he would not have normally done such a democratic thing with Morita and the other Commandos, Peggy and Michael were vital to the cause and had critical information about HYDRA.

There was also a lot of personal bias that factored into his decision as well. Not only would he not be able to face Steve if he got Peggy killed in the rescue, he did not want to put Michael directly in harm's way.

It was similar but not like the fact that he had slowly grown used to Steve being able to take care of himself in the field – most of the time. Michael was not a super soldier. Despite his misgivings and secret assignment to clear Michael, Bucky found himself caring a lot more than he knew he really should about the SOE agent.

“We can do it,” Peggy stated in affirmation, with Michael nodding his assent.

“You'll need this then,” Bucky stated, opening the door a little further. He slung his regular rifle off and handed it to Michael, along with what magazines he had left for it. For the pistol that he had given Michael, all he had left was the clip inside of it. “I'll be encumbered with it.”

Wordlessly, the two nodded, and headed back down. As Bucky peeked out from where he was, and surveyed the front of the house, he could hear movement from the cellar. A soft groan from Falsworth echoed up, but it was not loud enough for Bucky to be concerned. He was concentrating on trying to hear if there were any HYDRA patrols closing in on the area.

Morita emerged from the cellar first, and nodded to him. Together, the two of them crept back to the front of the house, warily listening and looking for any signs of enemy ambush. Seeing none, Bucky signaled to Morita.

[ _Go as soon as I take the first shots. Don't wait for me. Get them and Falsworth to CP ASAP._ ]

Morita gave him a curt nod, even though Bucky could see it in the Japanese-American's eyes that he was not keen on leaving him behind. But Morita was a soldier and would obey orders.

It was slightly opposite of what he had told Peggy and Michael, but he'd rather lie to them and have them agree to the 'plan' than tell them the truth. What information Peggy and Michael had on the HYDRA weapon was far more important than his life.

As soon as he heard Peggy, Michael, and Falsworth emerge from the cellar, Bucky slipped out of the house without a sound. Carefully making his way down the street while keeping a sharp eye on his surroundings, he made it three houses down from the house – to the church. It was the tallest one in the village.

Slipping into the alcove as he he heard HYDRA soldiers approaching from the left, he held his breath and tried to make himself as small as possible. The black-clad soldiers with their glowing weapons marched on by, not noticing the shadow within the alcove. As soon as they turned the corner, Bucky breathed a sigh of relief.

As much of a dangerous menace they were in the field, he was slightly glad that there was at least some consistency to the denseness and obliviousness of how HYDRA conducted patrols. It was much more predictable than Nazi soldiers.

Slipping back out, he quickly climbed to the church's rooftop, finding purchase wherever he could. Crouching in the shadow cast by the rising sun on the bell tower, Bucky withdrew his sniper rifle, and slowly flattened himself onto the rooftop next to the bell tower.

It was bitterly cold. The snow on the rooftop was making the chill seep faster into his clothes and body. Bucky slowly evened out his breathing, trying to ignore just how cold he was. Sighting through the scope, he could see the patrol that had just passed him. There were several other patrol groups starting their routes around the village; all perfectly clustered together.

_Breathe—pause—heartbeat—fire._

* * *

Acrid fire and smoke burned all around him, obscuring the rising sun. Steve jumped up and snatched his shield out of the air as it came ricocheting back to him. All around him were blackened buildings, caught on fire by the blue bolts or by the inferno that had spread throughout the villages. What had turned into a firefight between the Commandos and the platoon, versus the HYDRA assault team had tore the entire place apart.

Steve was only thankful that there had been no villagers present. He had not wanted to involve Howard in the firefight, but there had been no safe place for his friend to hide, and certainly no safe way for him to have gone to where the war correspondents were.

Corporal Anderson had informed him prior to him and the Commandos attacking that the village had been long abandoned before Allied forces had even gotten here and cleared it out. The village had only been a way point for the supply route going towards Bastogne.

“Surrender!” he shouted towards the massive black tank that had been stopped. The treads on it were broken, and the gears and mechanisms that made it move bullet-ridden. It's weaponry, including the massive cannon, were destroyed. All that was left was the in-tact hatch – and all guns were trained on it.

While Steve would have normally been done with and planted a sack full of grenades into the hatch, pushing back and defeating HYDRA's assault had used up all of their grenades. Everything they had done to halt the tank and destroy it from the outside had been done using conventional weapons, and Steve's shield.

The hatch popped open. Sousa and his men's weapons continued to train their guns somewhat twitchy-like on it. Steve saw DumDum and the others remain where they were, steadily pointing at the hatch. Steve held up a hand to make sure Sousa and his men – including Howard – did not shoot the soldier emerging from it.

“Captain America,” the soldier stated, German accent thick.

“Have you and your men in that tank climb slowly out, sir,” Steve stated. “Hands up where we can all see them.”

“My men will surrender only after you defeat me in single combat, Captain,” the soldier stated. “Otherwise, they will detonate this tank right here and now, blowing all of you to kingdom come.”

Steve's jaw tightened in anger – he should have seen this. The fact that the black tanks were already difficult for the Commandos to destroy, shouldn't have made him so complacent in defeating this one. They should have saved one grenade to have dropped into the hatch when they had had the chance.

Yet, it was also strange for the commander of the tank to call him out into single combat. Why had HYDRA not just detonate the tank when they had the chance? What exactly was HYDRA hiding up their sleeve?

“Single combat? Unarmed?” he questioned.

“Unarmed, Captain,” the HYDRA commander stated, nodding towards the shield. “No... hidden joke, as you might say.”

“You mean, no foul play involved,” Steve corrected, as he glanced over towards where DumDum was perched on higher ground. He saw the bowler-hat wearing Commando shake his head once – DumDum had not seen anything.

“Cap,” Jones' warned. “Don't...”

At the same time, Sousa had also said, “Sir...”

“Yes, no foul play,” the HYDRA commander stated.

Steve considered his options against what he knew of HYDRA's tactics. This was unusual, and his gut was telling him that the tank commander was telling the truth. Yet, his gut was also telling him to be wary of the commander – no HYDRA soldier in their right mind had ever challenged him to single combat. Only Schmidt had, and even then, it had been Steve who had done the challenging.

“All right,” he said after a few more moments of weighing his options. As an added emphasis, he hooked his shield onto his back.

The commander nodded once before slowly and warily climbed out of the tank. The hatch was not closed, but the commander climbed down, holding his hands up. Dernier approached and swept the commander of weapons, pulling out only a pistol that had a blue glow in the magazine area. The Frenchman stepped back and the commander approached.

Steve held his hands loose and to his sides, as the HYDRA commander stopped just shy of a lunging reach. “May the best super soldier win,” the man simply stated.

Faster than Steve anticipated, the commander struck. Stars exploded across Steve's eyes for a moment before blackness engulfed him. He felt himself flying backwards, hitting the ground with enough force that he lost his breath for a few moments.

Shock was coursing through his body, but that was rapidly turning into anger as he shook himself, and scrambled up. Even before he managed to get fully upright, the commander was attacking again. This time, Steve was not caught unready, and caught the kick aimed at his gut with his hands.

Wrenching with all of his might, he unbalanced the commander enough to force him back. But Steve was not done as he rushed in, punching one-two as fast as he could. Wherever he found an opening, he tried to take it. He forced the commander backwards, kicking when he could, but did not overextend himself.

He jabbed and blocked the retaliatory attacks that the commander was attempting to inflict on him. Keeping himself centered and squared, Steve tried to make the soldier overextend himself, tried to tire him out. He knew that he himself was already tired, but after that first surprise attack, he was not about to be caught off-guard again. This HYDRA commander was an extremely dangerous foe.

Steve expected a taunt or two, especially with his defensive-only moves, but nothing emerged from the commander's lips. There was only a crazed look in the man's eyes – a fanatical look that Steve had seen countless amounts of time. The commander would not let up until one or both of them were dead.

Deciding to finally go on the offensive, Steve lashed out with a spin kick. As expected, the commander dodged to the side to avoid it, but Steve pushed himself past his exhaustion. He immediately leapt up as soon as both of his feet touched the ground.

He flipped up and over the commander's head, and at the same time, reached out and grabbed the commander by the sides of his head. Slamming down on the ground, he brought the commander down with him. The soldier was momentarily stunned. Steve didn't waste time and unhooked his shield from his back. He spun down towards the ground, and slapped the face of it into the side of the commander's head, knocking him out.

An eerie silence fell as Steve slowly got up from where he was, hooking the shield onto his back. He turned around and saw that the Commandos had secured those who had remained in the tank. Of Sousa's platoon, he was well aware of the awed and possibly terrified stares he was receiving from them. He glanced back down at the commander.

“Cap?” DumDum's voice shook him out of his staring at the unconscious body of the HYDRA tank commander.

“Super soldier,” Steve couldn't help but murmur. “That's what he said right before he attacked me. 'May the best super soldier win'.”

“Shit,” DumDum stated. “Where the hell did he come from?”

Steve shook his head slightly. “I don't know, but I have a bad feeling about this.” Shaking his head again, he looked up and over at the other soldiers, saying, “Let's get back to CP.”

“What do we do about him?” DumDum asked, nudging the apparent German super soldier with a boot.

“That explosive still wired up to go?” Steve asked, glancing at the tank.

“Yeah. Jones is terrified of dismantling it though.”

“Then we'll see how he,” Steve said, gesturing to the unconscious super soldier with a hand, “likes waking up to his own medicine. He's much too dangerous to bring back as a prisoner to CP – no matter how much we want information out of him.”

“Understood, Cap.” DumDum answered.

Steve wished that he had a better answer for his friend, but there was no other choice for the fate of the super soldier. They could wait and try to extract information, but with HYDRA showing up, and being too close to the front lines without proper reinforcements or supplies, they couldn't wait. The current CP set up to push back the German advance, was much too fragile and too active to have someone keep an eye on a dangerously unknown enemy super soldier.

“Move the others out, Lieutenant,” he ordered. “I'll get this man situated.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Bucky tore his eye away from the scope as soon as he saw the HYDRA-marked jeep that Morita and the others had commandeered, zoom away. Bolts of blue tired to follow the ridiculously fast jeep, but none hit his friends.

He flattened himself even further against the rooftop as the air around him was peppered with the flecks of super-heated rooftop materials. HYDRA definitely had made his position well before Morita and the others got away, but Bucky had remained where he was, drawing more and more HYDRA soldiers towards him. He had not moved as he should have, as that would have only caused HYDRA to withdraw their attention from him.

With his friends safely making their escape – now was the time to run, and try to survive.

* * *

_Temporary Allied Command Post, somewhere in western Ardennes..._

Steve was already leaping out of the passenger seat of the jeep before it halted. When he and the other Commandos had arrived at the jeep that had carried all seven of them to the front lines, they had not seen Bucky or the others.

However, with their supplies and ammunition low, Steve knew that they could not linger and wait. None of them knew if HYDRA was going to attack again, and thus, they had returned to the temporary command post that the Allied forces had set up.

Even before Steve took three steps into the frenetic but somewhat orderly chaos of the camp, he heard Morita's voice crackle over the nearest radio, saying, “Don't shoot the black jeep! Allied forces! Don't shoot the black jeep! We're friendlies!”

Turning around, he saw relief bloom across DumDum, Jones, Dernier, and Howard's faces. That was further amplified as the speck and whine of a HYDRA-marked black jeep came barreling into the camp. It screeched to a halt, and Steve was not the only one to quickly approach.

Steve's heart leapt with joy as he saw that Peggy was among those sitting in the jeep. She looked unhurt, as did her brother. But as quickly as it had come, it sunk back down into worry. Falsworth was injured, and—

“Where's Bucky?”

The question seemed to strike at Morita as a metaphorical bullet would, as he saw the Japanese-American swallow once – hard. “I'm sorry, Cap—”

“Where is he?” Steve demanded, as he stepped to the side to allow medics through – with someone having had the sense to summon them.

“He ordered me to go, to leave him behind—”

That was all Steve needed to hear as everything else, strangely including Peggy's voice, seemed to fade away. He turned and pushed his way through the various personnel in camp, before he couldn't stand the slowness anymore and began to run.

“I need to borrow your motorcycle,” he stated to the first soldier that he saw standing next to a motorcycle.

“Uh, but sir—” the soldier began.

Steve ignored the man's protest as he sat and started up the motorcycle. Gunning it before the anyone else could stop him, he tore out of the camp. Riding fast through the slushy snow, Steve hoped that he was not too late to save his best friend.

~*~*~*~


	11. War Without End (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring references to Bastogne, WASP, Night Witches, and the ATA...
> 
> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 3, Episode 17.

**Chapter 11: War Without End (Part 2)**

_December 1944, Ardennes Forest, Battle of the Bulge_

Exhaustion nipped at Bucky as he continued to run towards the cliff – towards a tributary that would lead into the Meuse. Bolts of blue flew past him, striking the ground, trees, and rocks all around him. Flecks of super-heated dirt and debris burned where they struck, but Bucky kept running and weaving his way around the dense forest.

The underbrush, snow, and rough terrain helped and hindered him from moving any faster, but he was slowing down. Slowly, but surely, his strength was faltering; his augmented body could not keep up the pace. There were just too many HYDRA soldiers chasing after him – some on foot, some on motorcycles – the rest long-ranging it.

They penned him in, and despite not being able to see any black-clad soldiers ahead of him, he knew that he would eventually run into a wall of HYDRA soldiers. Yet, he continued to run, even after he had exhausted nearly all bullets in his sniper rifle.

Ten customized bullets were left of all that he had carried – fifty-four in total. The majority used in the attacks on the Nazi lines to get to this region. Five had been shot with precision, to kill the hounds sent after him.

He still had weapons though – his knives—

Bucky hissed as the blue-bolted bullet passed too close to him, just as he twisted out of the way of another splashing against the tree. But all of his dodging and weaving was for naught as he burst out into a tiny clearing, slipping on the muddy, snow-covered ground.

Motorcycles immediately emerged as he scrambled up. He looked around, seeing nine HYDRA soldiers surrounding him. Several more poured out moments after the initial nine. Each held a black rifle that glowed blue at the barrel tip.

Bucky was staring into the face of his own death. He knew then, that even if by some miracle, he scrambled out of the way and dodged the initial firing, he would never make it to the tributary. It was only ten feet away from him; he could hear the rushing waters calling out, but HYDRA did not miss – not at this range.

He refused to hold his hand up in surrender; he did not want to be taken prisoner again – especially not by HYDRA. He’d rather die in a hail of bullets than—

_Bonk! Bonk! Bonk!_

The flash of a silvery, red-white-blue shield, followed by the screech and crash of a motorcycle flipping end over end and onto two more soldiers launched Bucky into action. He immediately whirled to the left and brought up two knives, leaping up past the initial hail of bullets that the soldier to his left had unleashed.

Plunging both knives into the neck of the soldier, Bucky pushed and kicked the dead soldier away. Turning left, he threw one bloody knife at another soldier, knocking the soldier’s weapon out of his hand. The second knife was already flying towards the soldier and struck the soldier down.

Continuing to punch, kick and weave his way around the soldiers, Bucky fought hard – harder than he had ever done before. Steve’s shield flew past him several times. Bucky immediately followed up on those soldiers behind the ones brought down by the shield with a flurry of punches.

He was tiring fast, but there was hope – Steve was here, fighting along side him, and nothing was going to stop them. They were going to win.

Snatching up a dropped HYDRA pistol, Bucky changed tactics as he caught a glimpse of Steve whirling around, throwing the shield to create as wide of a berth for both of them as possible. He slowly backed up, firing the pistol as fast as he could – not at the soldiers, but at the forest around them, until it was emptied of its power.

The flecks of burning shrapnel was just as effective as grenades in keeping the perimeter around both of them as large as possible. It gave Steve more room to arc his shield around to take out the last of the HYDRA soldiers sent to hunt him, Bucky, down.

An eerie silence immediately fell in the area. Bucky saw Steve pick himself off the ground, swiping his shield up with him. Relief filled him, but it was short-lived. A sudden whine immediately started up next to him, as Bucky saw a motorcycle that one of the soldiers had been riding, began to glow red.

The curse didn’t even leave his lips as Bucky sprinted towards Steve and knocked him to the ground. He didn’t even get time to get his bearings when the first of the chained explosions went off around them. A ring of debris and fire erupted all around them, as Bucky covered Steve as best as he could—

Bucky suddenly found himself flying up and away. Fire scorched his back for just a brief moment, before stars exploded in his eyes. Black spots along with agonizing pain lanced up and down his body as he slammed into the trunk of a tree.

He slid down to the ground, stunned. Trying to get his bearings, he shook his head, coughing. Acrid smoke filled his eyes. Blearily, he looked past the black spots to see Steve fighting with a soldier that looked _enormous_.

Forcing himself to work past the pain and dizziness, Bucky tried to get up. He saw the soldier punch Steve in the face, slamming Steve into the ground. The sight of Steve falling to the ground was enough for him to see red, as cold anger overtook him.

With a yell of rage, Bucky launched himself at the large, muscular soldier, slamming into the soldier’s mid-section. It was almost like slamming into a brick wall, but it was enough to cause the soldier to stumble back. Bucky immediately pulled his sniper rifle forward, and rapidly pulled the trigger five times.

All remaining bullets punched into the soldier dead center. Yet, the soldier did not fall down dead. Bucky’s eyes widened ever so briefly as the soldier charged forward. He wasn’t fast enough, as the soldier reached out and grabbed his sniper rifle by the barrel.

Bucky could hear the screech of metal being twisted – his precious Vera being torn apart – as he tried to deflect the soldier’s left hook. Stars exploded in his eyes again as Bucky tasted blood in his mouth.

He fell, dragging the remnants of his sniper rifle with him, just as Steve’s yell filled the air. Bucky tried to take the fall and tumble back up, but it was too late. Steve and the HYDRA soldier were at it again, and this time, the soldier was forcing Steve towards the cliff edge.

Grunting with pain, he forced himself to get up again – not because of rage, but because of fear. He would not let Steve die. Rifle or not, he still had one last trick up his sleeve, even as dizziness clawed at him. Unhooking the experimental grappling cord, Bucky shot it out and let the end of it wrap around a tall branch.

Then, he ran – as fast as he could – pushing past the pain and exhaustion. He flew up and towards Steve and the HYDRA soldier. Just as he saw the soldier break through Steve’s defensive move with the shield, Bucky swung in and snatched his best friend up by the scruff of his uniform.

At nearly the same time, Bucky _kicked_ the soldier, using his momentum, and Steve’s added weight like a wrecking ball. The soldier flew through the air and towards the edge of the cliff, tumbling beyond it.

Letting go of the cord before the cord could snap, Bucky hit the ground hard, tucking himself around Steve. Together, they skidded in the mud-and-snow covered ground, halting after a few feet. Out of breath, incredibly dizzy, and in a lot of pain, Bucky forced his eyes open to make sure Steve was all right.

Pools of concerned blue-green orbs stared back at him, before Bucky saw a faint grin split Steve’s bloodied lips. That grin quickly turned into a grimace as Bucky saw him work his jaw around for a few seconds – a direct hit from the HYDRA soldier being acutely felt.

“Just… give me… a moment...” Steve managed to huff out as Bucky felt him partially collapse on top of him – exhausted and most likely in as much pain as he was in.

“Sure thing… punk,” he managed to answer through his own haze of pain. He couldn’t hold back the hiss though, as he felt Steve’s weight shift ever so slightly against him.

“Sorry, sorry,” he heard Steve apologize.

A few moments later, most of Steve’s weight shifted off of him, as Bucky opened his eyes again to see his best friend roll off of him to lie on his back next to him. Never mind that the two of them were laying in the remnants of blackened earth mixed with blood, mud, and snow. Neither of them wanted to move.

Despite the pain he was in, Bucky reached out with his left hand and grasped Steve’s right hand. “Thanks, Steve,” he quietly stated, glancing over at his best friend and gave him a faint smile – the most he could manage at the moment.

“Anytime,” Steve answered. “Just like old times.”

“Uh huh,” he stated with dubiousness in his tone, before frowning slightly. He let go of Steve’s hand and shifted slightly to pull the remnants of his sniper rifle up to rest against the front of his body.

“Vera,” he heard Steve murmur, and glanced over to see him looking at the rifle and at him with sadness in his eyes.

“Who… the hell was that?” Bucky asked as the silence of the forest, coupled with the sound of the tributary rushing below the cliff, enveloped them. “Fucking punched like a brick wall.”

“Second super soldier,” he heard Steve murmur.

“What?” he questioned, the surprising answer pushing away his exhaustion.

“First one was in the east village. This is the second one,” Steve quietly stated.

“Wha… where?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask, dread creeping up into his stomach. “The HYDRA super-weapon?”

Steve remained silent for a few long moments before saying, “I don’t know. But if what Peggy and Michael found don’t match what I… what we both suspect, then we have more than just another HYDRA super-weapon problem.”

* * *

_Temporary Allied Command Post, twelve hours later..._

They were all exhausted, and it was not just a physical exhaustion that gripped them. The indomitable cold, the dreary weather that brought squalls of snow, everything about this once formerly beautiful place was contributing to the exhaustion that they faced.

Peggy could even feel it herself. She had not gotten not a lot of sleep since the surprise attack, rescue, escape, and worrying waiting for Steve to return with Bucky.

But she dared not complain. She knew that what little sleep she had gotten in these trying days – weeks even – was a luxury, compared to the soldiers and their commanders who surrounded her. As much as she wanted to urge Steve to at least get an hour – half hour, even – of sleep, after he and Bucky had returned, she didn't.

Too much had to be done.

Allied forces still had not broken through the primary defensive lines; the Nazi soldiers were entrenched tightly. The constant snow squalls did not help, as it made for extremely limited air support. Terrain was another factor, as the Ardennes were hilly and dense enough that it was difficult for supply trucks to drive into and through. Howard's efforts into solving that problem were still on-going, even in the face of the attempts to break the German lines.

It didn't help that HYDRA was reinforcing pockets of the enemy lines, forcing the SSR to deploy multiple teams far and away from each other. The Commandos were stuck where they were – and they were the only team close enough to the HYDRA base that contained the super weapon.

All talk of attempting to acquire the HYDRA weapon ceased. What was left of whatever attempts the Soviets had tried in securing the weapons had been diverted elsewhere. Peggy didn't know exactly where Soviet forces, or SIS or OSS agents were, but she certainly hadn't seen anyone suspicious lurking around the tent where the Commandos were.

The fact that the Commandos were the only SSR unit in this particular command post able to fight against HYDRA gave them some leeway in adhering to the chain of command. Yet, to ensure that not all feathers were ruffled, Peggy made sure that all the information that she and her brother had gathered about the area were given to the Allied commanders. They only information that the two of them had withheld was what exactly the HYDRA weapon was.

It was too dangerous to let anyone else except for the Commandos, to know.

Even then, Peggy had only written the contents down on a scrap piece of paper that had been burned immediately after the remaining six Commandos – including Steve – had read it. Falsworth was the only Commando not present at the moment. The Englishman had been evacuated to the nearest field hospital as soon as they had arrived at the camp.

The tent flap opened and closed, briefly bringing in a gust of chilly wind with it. Peggy briefly glanced back to see that her brother approaching, covered in a thick layer of snow. Another squall had arrived, bringing a lot more snow than previous squalls.

“They've been briefed,” Michael began without preamble. “No questions asked. We're go.”

“Good,” Steve stated. “Move out.”

The Commandos didn’t need to gather their weapons – they had already been armed and ready to go when Steve conducted the briefing. The mission was going to be dangerous, but Steve had not said one word to her about her staying behind. Peggy knew that a part of it was due to the information she had collected, that Steve had not ordered her to stay behind.

The other part was the fact that Steve knew that should the mission end up in a bad place, there was little they could do to recover from that. They were down one Commando; she needed to step up and fill in for Falsworth. And it was unstated that Steve was willing to take the blame, no matter how it looked if she happened to be killed on this mission.

But Peggy would do her best to ensure that never happened.

While her brother would have been a more natural choice to fill in for Falsworth, Michael did not have the experience working with the Commandos for such a mission. She knew the Commandos – how they reacted, and what they did under fire. Thus, Michael was considered a tag-a-long for the mission.

At the thought of her brother, Peggy glanced over towards him for a brief moment. She saw her brother place a comforting hand on Bucky’s arm for a moment before saying some words. They had seen what become of Bucky’s beloved sniper rifle. It was clear that Bucky was mourning the loss of a weapon that almost seemed a part of himself, even if he tried to hide it.

At the present, Bucky nodded before stepping away, and followed Steve out of the tent. Michael had returned both the pistol and regular rifle back to Bucky. Peggy thought it was a hollow gesture though, even if Michael’s intent was to bring some semblance of comfort to Bucky and the loss of ‘Vera’. To her, it looked odd to see the Commandos’ sniper without his usual signature armament.

Peggy waited for the rest of the Commandos to leave before she caught up with her brother. She remembered seeing his expression crumple ever so slightly when the two of them realized that Morita was not going to wait for Bucky to evacuate with them from that village.

While a part of her had not believed Bucky’s words about drawing fire away before joining them at the edge of the village, a part of her had hoped that he would not be reckless. She supposed that she should’ve listened to her instincts – Bucky was almost just like Steve when it came to self-sacrificing to ensure that people were saved.

“Have faith. They’ll both return home safe and sound,” she quietly stated to her brother.

She could reasonably guess with certain accuracy what exactly was going through his thoughts. It was most likely similar to the ones she had whenever Steve was on a mission. Except that his thoughts were generally leaning more towards Bucky.

She worried about Steve, but also worried about Bucky as well. Yet, she knew that the bond between Steve and Bucky was unbreakable – they would protect each other until old age claimed both of them. It had been proven time and again – most recently when Steve had wordlessly ran off by himself over twelve hours ago to rescue Bucky.

“I know,” Michael answered, nodding.

There was nothing else Peggy could say to assuage her brother of his worries. As the cold wind and snow of the squall enveloped all of them, Peggy hoped that her words would ring true – for all of them. Because if they didn’t, then HYDRA’s new super-weapon would change the course of the war in a matter of weeks.

* * *

_HYDRA Super-Weapon Facility..._

“Fucking hell this place is creepy,” DumDum’s whisper echoed all around them.

Steve continued to take cautious steps forward, shield up and pistol out. The eerie glow of red being back lit in places, along with the flickering lights did make it more unsettling. Yet, they had been creeping through the halls for the past half-hour without encountering any scientist, HYDRA soldier, or anyone else.

It felt abandoned, even though both Peggy and Michael stated that it had not been. Where the scientists and guards were, were a mystery. Steve suspected that most of the guards had been reassigned to pursue the Commandos, or reinforce pockets of Nazi lines. The scientists had either fled, or were hiding among the villages.

But, the scientists were not the Commandos’ priority targets at the moment.

Peggy and Michael had slipped in disguised as two scientists who worked in the outer areas of the facility – Karl and Greta. Steve found out that Karl and Greta had been the couple that had sheltered Peggy and Michael when the surprise attack had launched. The old couple had also been intermittently assisting SIS and OSS agents whenever they could.

But it was this area, where the Commandos now scoured through, where HYDRA conducted and kept their experiments. All the scientists and guards remained in the outer section – including Peggy and Michael. Only a select few – hand-picked by Schmidt himself, were authorized to enter the secured area.

Neither had managed to get access to this area – there had not been enough time. However, Peggy and Michael had found the next best thing: they found and memorized some of the schematics and codes to get into here.

Any other locked doors that they Commandos encountered on their way to destroy the HYDRA super-weapon would have to be forcibly taken down. At the moment, everything matched the memorized and drawn schematics, along with the codes – except that there were no guards around.

Ahead was a door, and as soon as Steve positioned himself with the shield held in front, he glanced back slightly to nod for Peggy and Michael to go to either side to punch in the code.

It was one of the many unusual things that Steve had noticed about this particular HYDRA facility. The security here was much higher than any other HYDRA facility that the Commandos had destroyed.

Double keypad locks similar to the ones that guarded the engineering laboratory in SSR Headquarters, were present at each entrance. Coupled with steel doors that were at least five inches thick at each entrance, and wired with live electric current running through them, made this place even more unusual.

“It’s as if they’re trying to keep things in, rather than keep people out,” Morita’s quiet murmur shattered the silence before Steve could give the ‘go’ signal.

Steve wasn’t the only one to glance back at Morita. He was also certain that he was not the only one to see Bucky flinch ever so slightly at Morita’s words. Though he was certain that Morita’s words were not meant to hurt Bucky, he had to agree with Morita on principle. This particular facility seemed more like a prison than anything else.

Ever since Peggy had confirmed that the two super soldiers that he had fought against were the end product of the HYDRA facility’s super-weapon, Steve couldn’t push his worry for Bucky away. Zola had to have been behind the continued experimentation and creation of the super soldiers. Steve knew that Bucky wanted revenge for what Zola had done to him.

Refocusing himself, Steve returned his attention to the task at hand, and gave the ‘go’ signal. The dual-numeric codes were punched in, and the thick doors slid open. An awful smell immediately wafted out, overwhelming all of them.

“Jesus Christ,” Jones’s exclamation spoke up for all of them as Steve signaled to enter.

The area was large – larger than what had been depicted in the memorized map. This was one of the unknown areas that neither Peggy or Michael had managed to find out. What should have been a sharp smell of sterility, smelled more like rot. Though there was not the scent of fecal matter on hand, the noxious, heavy smell of decay was saturating the place.

Passing tables of beakers and tube lines were still bubbling. The entire place looked to have been abandoned recently. Yet, it was still eerily silent as Steve saw the Commandos spread out to cover the area. Even Peggy and Michael had took outer lines, though Peggy had stopped in front of a desk and was rifling through the pages.

Steve looked around, noting that there was a second floor walkway that led into another area. The swirling stairwell was located at the other end, as was another door that didn’t seem to have any locks blocking its opening. He signaled to DumDum, indicating that he was going to check the second floor walkway.

Hurrying forward, Steve climbed up. With a wider vantage point, Steve peered down to see his Commandos cautiously spreading further along what looked to be a chemical laboratory. Peggy had not found anything of interest, but Michael had stopped at another desk. There was nothing jumping out at Steve though, even though the smell was just as bad up here as it was down there.

He saw Bucky look up towards him, before gesturing towards the sliding metal doors at the other end. None of the Commandos below were finding anything else of interest – nor of any sign of the experiments that HYDRA was conducting.

Steve made the appropriate gestures, and saw Bucky pass on the signals to DumDum and Dernier. The two moved forward, with Bucky flanking them. Steve returned his attention to the door at the end of the walkway.

Entering the next area, Steve’s nose wrinkled with the sharpness of the smell that saturated the area. However, that was the least of his worries, as his eyes widened at what he saw below: five men naked with only a thin strip of cloth covering their modesty, were lying on metal slabs. They were arrayed in a circular fashion in the center of the room.

There was a central pillar that rose up to the ceiling, and many tubes of fluid and electric cables that ran up and down the shaft. Some of the tubes flowed into the men, via multiple needles connected to centralized vials. Most of the tubes though, snaked into large black metal boxes that were stationed next to each ‘bed’.

None of the men, however, looked to be breathing, even though Steve could see lights blinking on the faces of the boxes. Even the fluids going into the men looked to be moving ever so slowly.

Bucky seemed to be the only one not as affected by the horrific display of human experimentation before them. Steve saw him approach the nearest body, reaching out with a hand to touch the man’s neck. DumDum did the same to another man a few seconds later, though there was a sickened look on his face.

Steve saw both of them shake their heads, confirming that the men who laid on the slabs were dead—

“They are dead because of you, Captain.”

The thick, Germanic accented voice had come from Steve’s left, and above him. That was all the warning Steve got, before he was violently struck by booted feet swinging down from the rafters.

~~~

“Steve!”

Bucky ran forward, leaping up and snatched Steve’s shield as it flew from Steve’s hand. With barely a glance towards the super soldier who had attacked Steve, Bucky threw the shield as hard as he could at the soldier.

Just as the shield knocked the super soldier partially away from Steve – with both crashing into the central core – the doors on both sides of laboratory opened. HYDRA soldiers poured in like a pitch black ocean wave on the beach shore.

Bucky couldn’t spare his attention to fight the incoming soldiers as he snatched the wobbling shield out of the air again and charged at the super soldier. He had to get the soldier away from Steve, who looked to have been stunned quite badly.

Swiping up and left with the shield, Bucky punched the super soldier in the stomach as hard as he could. He whirled and attempted to kick the soldier’s legs, but aborted at the last millisecond – his instincts screaming at him to move as bullets peppered the air where he had been.

It unbalanced him – enough for the soldier to take advantage and lash out with a vicious kick. Bucky barely dodged the kick as he whirled away and brought up his rifle – firing once, twice. The soldier only flinched back slightly as the bullets bit into him, but it was enough of a distraction.

Steve slammed into the soldier from the right, knocking the soldier off of his feet. Bucky threw the shield, ricocheting off of two walls and three HYDRA soldiers attempting to flank Peggy, before Steve immediately snatched it out of the air.

Steve slammed the face of the shield into the side of the super soldier’s head – stunning the soldier. Bucky was already slipping behind and to the left of the soldier. He snatched the soldier’s head with his hands and wrenched the soldier’s neck even further – snapping the soldier’s neck.

Bucky was already moving past Steve before the dead enemy super soldier fell to the ground. Punching the nearest HYDRA soldier, Bucky then grabbed the man and used him as a temporary meat shield. Three bullets lanced into the HYDRA soldier, just as he fired his rifle from the hip and downed two other soldiers nearest to him and Steve.

Dropping the dead soldier to the ground, Bucky caught the silvery shield out of the air, before it could fall several feet short of where Steve had thrown it from. Just as he was about to toss it back to Steve, something big and heavy rammed into him.

He felt something inside of him give way, as agonizing pain caused him to black out. Whether it was for just a few moments or minutes, when Bucky came to – he saw Steve fighting yet another HYDRA super soldier. The Commandos were scattered throughout the place, and there was no one covering Steve’s flank.

Sharp anger, ice-cold and honed to a piercing point enveloped him, as Bucky forced himself to push past the pain, the black spots appearing in his eyes, to bring up his rifle—

_Breathe—heartbeat—fire—fire—fire—fire—_

_Two flanking Michael—fire—fire._

_Reload._

_Breathe._

_Right and up thirty—fire—fire—fire—_

_Cluster on left—fire—fire—fire._

_Dernier on left five—fire._

_Breathe._

_Fucking HYDRA super soldier—_

Bucky fired the remaining rounds he had in his rifle at the cluster of HYDRA soldiers attempting to crowd and separate DumDum and Peggy. The last of the gunfire from either the Commandos or HYDRA soldiers echoed in the silence that had enveloped the area. The steady whir of the central core and its devices were gone – completely destroyed in the attack. It was now only the Commandos, versus the lone HYDRA super soldier.

The soldier had cartwheeled away, looking barely affected by the one-on-one fight with Steve. Yet, as the momentary pause in fighting began to stretch, Bucky noticed that there was still some of the infernal device still remaining. The soldier would not see him…

“Surrender,” he heard Steve hoarsely state.

Forcing himself to move unobtrusively away from where he had landed in the surprise attack, Bucky drew out the long combat knife that would have attached onto the end of his rifle. Silence greeted Steve’s request, but as Bucky silently circled around the outer perimeter, he could see that the super soldier was weighing his options on just how to attack.

There was no option for surrender that he could read on the soldier’s stance. The soldier would fight until the death—Bucky was not going to allow that to happen. Steve was already injured, and still was recovering from fighting two other super soldiers in the span of less than a day.

“< _Death to—_ >” the super soldier began to growl in German.

Bucky didn’t let the statement finish. He slipped in, wrapped his hand around the soldier’s face, and quickly drew the blade across the super soldier’s neck.

~~~

As viscerally horrific as the sight was, Peggy somehow managed to keep the bile she felt from coming up. She knew that Steve sanitized the reports. She knew that he left things out that were not appealing to those in Allied command who read the SSR reports. She knew that the Commandos took no pleasure in killing their enemies, but she didn’t know just how viciously they fought – until now.

Until she saw James Buchanan Barnes, the one who served as a shadow to the things that Steve – who wore the flag – could not do, kill someone in cold blood.

While the soldier had been an active enemy, she had thought that Steve asking the HYDRA super soldier to surrender was enough of a signal to the other Commandos to at least knock the soldier out. Even more startling was that not one of the Commandos reacted to what Bucky had done.

Including Steve.

The realization of the reality that the Commandos lived by and through was interrupted by a most unexpected voice coming from above them. “I do wonder why you are the only success that I have had Sergeant Barnes.”

Peggy was not the only one to immediately turn, and bring her rifle up to bear at the sound of Armin Zola’s voice echoing from the far corner of the laboratory. The HYDRA scientist was standing at the far corner on the second floor walkway, between the first area and this current area. Two heavily-armed and shielded HYDRA soldiers stood between the scientist and them.

“But thank you, Sergeant, and you as well, Captain Rogers, for allowing me to observe what failures I must correct, in order to perfect the serum,” Zola stated. “As a reward—”

Faster than Peggy’s eyes could follow, a glint of silver dripping with blood flitted past the scientist, briefly cutting off his words. Even the HYDRA soldiers had reacted too slow to stop the trajectory of the knife – which embedded itself in the wall, two inches away away and above Zola’s left ear.

Yet, the knife had not been aimed directly at Zola’s head, even though Peggy was already glancing back to see and confirm that it had been Bucky who had thrown the knife. There was a thunderously dark expression on Bucky’s face – all of it and his hatred focused on Zola.

That throw had been only a warning; two more knives were already in Bucky’s hands.

“Bucky, stand down. We need him alive,” Steve commanded. Peggy saw him take a slight step in front of the next trajectories that the knives were most likely going to take.

“Twenty seconds was to be my gift to you,” Zola stated, suddenly bringing up what looked to be a cylindrical button with a wire leading out of it. “But it is now ten, for what you’ve done.”

“Go!” Steve shouted, just as Zola pressed the button and disappeared beyond the laboratory. Almost immediately, the doors leading to this section began to rapidly close as a deeply shaking rumble enveloped the entire place.

Peggy felt Michael pushing her to the forefront as Steve’s shield flew past her and managed to wedge in between the closing door. She could hear the awful screech of metal pushing on the door and against the shield. The rumbling beneath them became a little more violet as she stumbled slightly before sliding in between the narrow gap.

DumDum was the second to follow her as she opened fire at the small platoon of HYDRA soldiers pouring into the first area, through the way out. They couldn’t stay here, as she overturned a metal table full of beakers and ducked behind it. Dernier fell into cover beside her, as she saw Michael slip behind another overturned table, taking shelter with Morita.

Then, the explosions started. Peggy kept her grip on her rifle steady though, as she immediately popped out in the brief lull of gunfire. Shooting several bursts, she managed to hit two HYDRA soldiers – sending them careening to the floor.

Steve’s shield flew by again, the noise from it hitting the soldiers engulfed in the explosions that was bringing the entire facility down around them. They could not stay here, as she saw him run by, with Bucky hot on his heels.

Peggy had seen soldiers work in tandem before to bring down enemy tanks or even groups. But that paled in comparison to just how closely Bucky and Steve worked with each other to bring down the entire platoon of HYDRA soldiers in mere seconds. As she followed the two carving a fast path to safety, she could only assume that this was how the two had fought bullies in Brooklyn.

Where Steve would sometimes not be, was where Bucky would be, or vice versa. They covered each other, leaving no room for error or any new injuries to be inflicted. Much like how they uncannily coordinated their attacks on the two super soldiers, there seemed to be a natural instinct shared between the two.

But her observations were only secondary to her assistance in escaping the trap. As they ran down the corridors, she reached out to steady one of the Commandos, or Michael whenever she saw them stumble. She could see the determination in just the way Steve held himself to make sure they all made it out – and it made her run faster than she had ever done before.

Peggy’s lungs were burning by the time she and the others made it out of the facility. She only stopped running when the others stopped. Coughing as the sweet cold air entered to take the place of the fire within, she turned back to see the facility finally collapse into rubble.

Black smoke rose up from the remnants of it as the fires all around burned. She supposed that it was a good thing Zola had not set the explosives to detonate in a spectacular fashion – as it was wont for HYDRA to do. But even with an implosion, it was impossible for anyone to pick through the rubble left behind – she knew that HYDRA would make sure of that.

“Is everyone all right?” Steve asked.

Affirmations answered Steve’s question, as Peggy voiced her readiness with the others. She felt Michael’s comforting hand on her shoulder, and glanced up at him. Cuts were bleeding freely from shrapnel that had struck him, but he didn’t look seriously injured. Giving her brother a nod of reassurance that she was unhurt, she returned her attention onto Steve.

Steve looked utterly exhausted, as did Bucky. There were still miles between them and where they had left the jeeps. And in those miles of forest, were most likely remnants of HYDRA – alerted by Zola, or by the collapse of the facility. They could not let their guard down – not until they all made it back to the Allied command post.

“Michael and I will take point,” she declared.

It was the least she could do, to give the Steve and Bucky time to recover some of their strength while on the move. There was nothing they could do in the immediate moment about the reopened and new injuries the two had sustained in their fights.

As expected Steve tried to protest, but it was surprisingly DumDum who spoke up, saying, “I have rear guard. Barnes, stay in the middle with Cap. And don’t argue with us, Steve. We got this.”

Peggy saw a startled, slightly undignified look appear on Bucky’s face – surprised at the fact that DumDum was pulling rank. To Steve though, DumDum was only a Lieutenant, while Steve outranked him. She saw Steve briefly clench his jaw in a moment of stubborn disobedience, before Bucky’s hand landing on Steve’s shoulder seemed to deflate that defiant look.

“Get us home, then, you two,” Bucky spoke up for Steve.

“Yes, sir,” Peggy answered at nearly the same time Michael did.

* * *

_December 27 th, 1944_

The German lines were finally broken between the 26th and 27th. Steve and the Commandos had participated in the push on the 26th, reaching the south point of Bastogne and securing it. Though Steve had wanted to stay and continue to help push back enemy forces, General Patton had issued personal orders to him and the Commandos – sending them home.

Steve knew that he couldn’t go around such an order, and withdrew himself and his men. At the present, he and the Commandos were queued up at the airfield, waiting to get on the airplane that was to take them back to England.

Peggy and her brother were queued with them as well – having received orders from Philips and Creighton, respectively. Those orders had been issued at nearly the same time that Patton’s orders to him and the Commandos had arrived. Howard and Falsworth had been evacuated several days ago, and thus were already waiting for them in London.

“All right boys! The weather between here and home is a little choppy, so I hope you’ve all taken your pills! I only have one rule while we’re going across: you throw up in my bird, you clean it up! I ain’t your mother on this trip.”

Scattered laughter echoed up and down the line of soldiers waiting to board, but it was not the words that caused Steve to look up and towards the female pilot making her way down the line. It was the voice – and the appearance of the pilot.

“Becca?!” both he and Bucky exclaimed at the same time.

Their startled exclamation was enough to grab the woman’s attention as Steve saw the pilot turn and face them. Surprise was written on her face, and there was no doubt about it – the pilot was indeed, Rebecca Barnes.

“Bucky?! Steve?!” she squeaked out, nearly dropping the small notebook she had been holding.

“The hell are you doing here?” Bucky asked, stepping out of the queue, as Becca rushed up to embrace her brother.

“I should be asking you the same, idiot!” Steve barely heard the muffled retort.

Bucky held his sister tightly for a few long moments – not a care in the world as to who else was watching. Steve could see a genuine, sun-bright smile envelope Bucky – something he had not seen since war had broken out.

The embrace was broken a few moments later, and while Steve could have sworn that there were a few unshed tears of happiness in Bucky’s eyes, the Commandos and others around them were getting slightly curious. Becca didn’t seem to care though, as she turned towards Steve, and silently hugged him.

Steve grinned, feeling a lot lighter than he had in the past few days. It was clear that Becca had not expected him to be taller and broader. He gently embraced her, patting her back as he had done numerous amounts of times before. He couldn’t help but give Bucky a sheepish look.

“Not skinny anymore,” was all Becca stated as she let go and stepped back, shaking her head slightly.

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at that, as Bucky snorted in laughter. Becca sounded thoroughly annoyed at the fact that Steve was not who he physically used to be. She was the first person who had expressed clear displeasure at his transformed state, and Steve didn’t know why he found it utterly amusing.

“So, pilot?” Bucky’s pointed question and gesture at her outfit sobered them up.

“I’ll tell you after we get into the air,” Becca answered, gesturing towards the others in the queue. “We’ll have time to talk. Miriam needs some more experience flying solo.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Bucky said, warmth laced with some concern in his tone.

Becca returned to the forefront, and began her final checks on the aircraft as the queue began to slowly move forward. “Pilot,” he heard Bucky murmur. “Huh...”

“So that’s your sister,” DumDum spoke up from behind them, as Steve turned to see the rest of the Commandos, including Peggy and Michael, staring rather curiously at the two of them, and Becca.

“No,” Bucky immediately stated. “She’s engaged, Dugan. The rest are off-limits to the likes of all of you.”

DumDum immediately held up a hand in surrender as Steve saw Peggy and Michael try to contain their laughter at just how defensively protective Bucky sounded. Steve did not do anything to intervene, as it was making him glad to hear and see his men laughing again.

What had happened in these past few days and weeks had been incredibly difficult on all of them. He had feared that the Commandos had reached the breaking point when they had reached the laboratory with the dead super soldiers. They had all been pushed to places where none of them had thought to go – the dark paths that led to more than just uneasy sleep.

Now, it seemed that even with the unusual circumstances that had brought Becca Barnes to them, it seemed that she was the light they needed to claw their way out. Steve just hoped that this was the last of the worst they would see in the war. With the Nazi lines broken, he hoped that soon, the war would end – that perhaps they would soon be able to flush out the Red Skull from wherever he was hiding.

~~~

It was a half-hour after they were wheels up and on their way home that Becca emerged from the cockpit. Bucky shifted over slightly, as did Steve – though in the opposite direction – to give Becca some room to sit next to them. He could feel the curious eyes of not only the Commandos, but other soldiers within the aircraft on the three of them.

“WASP,” he heard his sister yell over the din. “Peter paid for my training. They were disbanded on the 20th, so we made the decision to move here. ATA took me in. Peter’s back home, securing permission and a transfer to fly with the RAF.”

“ATA?” he questioned.

Bucky knew that Peter was the name of Becca’s fiance, and knew that he was a pilot who had sortied off the east coast against the German U-boats. It was also where he had heard of the WASP – Women Air Service Pilots – created to free up the men for combat roles. He knew little about them, other than they tested and ferried aircraft from base to base.

“Air Transport Auxiliary,” Peggy spoke up, shouting her words to be heard by both of them.

“You must be Peggy Carter,” Becca answered, turning slightly and extended a hand behind Steve’s head to shake Peggy’s hand. “Bucky’s told me a lot about you. All good things, I promise.”

“But yeah, she’s right. ATA is Air Transport Auxiliary,” Becca continued. “We ferry aircraft from base to base. But because of what happened, they pulled a lot of us off of the rotation to do troop transport. To get all of you home, and bring in fresh troops. I’ll be back to flying my beautiful Spitfires – hopefully in a few weeks.”

Bucky blinked at her in utter surprise. “You fly Spitfires?!”

“Not in combat,” she immediately stated. “At least I’m not allowed to. Just gotta transport the beauties from place to place without damage. Wish I could though – it would be nice to be flying like the Night Witches.”

“Night Witches?” Steve asked.

“Ночные ведьмы,” Bucky heard her state in Russian without the specific accent that marked the two of them. He could only assume that their mother had told Becca about her heritage as well, as he remembered her speaking in Russian with that specific accent.

“All female combat pilot regiment,” Peggy spoke up. “They’re known to do harassment and precision bombing on targets. Last I heard, they were in Poland.”

“Yeah,” Becca agreed. “Some times wish that I could’ve joined them. Give the fucking Krauts a what-for!”

“Becca, language!” Steve admonished.

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh as Becca emphasized her words with a one-two punch into the air. She certainly hadn’t changed since he had seen her last – and it didn’t seem that being engaged had affected her personality. While it seemed as if she cursed more, given that it was the first time he had heard her openly swear in front of people, he knew that it was most likely the result of the war that took some toll on her.

“Not my mother, Steve,” Becca stated, grinning. “But either way, I gotta go back and make sure my bird is in good hands.” She gave both him and Steve a wan smile. “I’ll catch up with you some more on the ground, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded as he hugged her again. It was only a few seconds after the cockpit door closed that Morita spoke up, saying, “She’s definitely you, Barnes. It’s wonder neither of you joined the Navy with the amount of cursing both of you do.”

In response, Bucky merely shrugged. He knew that it would do no good for himself to worry about his sister’s safety – especially now that she had joined up in a most unexpected way. But he couldn’t help it – his agreement in working as Philips agent was all because he had slipped up on his Russian accent and nearly caused a diplomatic disaster.

Now, he was investigating and trying to clear up the cobwebs surrounding Shostakov, Shostakov’s aide, and Michael. The destruction of the HYDRA super-weapon was most likely going to rattle diplomatic ties and intelligence channels. He had been compromised once, and with his sister now here, he couldn’t help but feel that she was in as much danger as he was.

Michael had seen Becca, and Bucky still didn’t know how to untangle him from whatever the hell Shostakov’s aide was potentially doing to him – if that thread existed. By rights, Michael should have been sent home with Howard and the injured Falsworth – not gone with the Commandos to destroy the facility.

Peggy as well, but that was something that Bucky was not going to think too much about. Michael was a civilian, even if he had been infantry prior to joining the SOE. It had been Steve’s decision to keep Michael with them, and Bucky had not argued it – they needed the extra firepower. Now, Bucky couldn’t help but begin to regret that he didn’t argue with Steve about sending both Peggy and Michael home earlier.

Michael had seen Becca; Bucky had to protect Steve and Peggy… and now, potentially his sister as well.

~*~*~*~


	12. Shadow Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that the Guard Department, or Охрана, was the secret police force of the Russian Empire. A brief mention/reference to them can be found in Chapter 2, during the joint SSR-SOE debriefing.
> 
> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 3, Episode 21.

**Chapter 12: Shadow Dancing**

_December 28 th, 1944_

Early morning traffic was something that Bucky rarely ever heard, let alone drove in. With all things considered, he was surprised at himself for managing to wake up at this ungodly hour. The sun hadn't even risen yet, though the sky was already turning towards a lighter shade. Yet, here he was, driving up to just outside the airfield that Becca flew from.

He had gotten special permission from Philips to leave the city for a half-day. Though the Commandos had been granted leave, they were required to remain within the city. Rationale for that was reasonable – troop transport had taken priority, and none could be spared to deliver soldiers to other places for leave.

Philips had offhandedly mentioned in the privacy of his office that word had reached him about Becca's service in the ATA. Though there seemed to be nothing except simple acknowledgment that another of the Barnes family was serving in the European Front, Bucky wasn't sure why Philips had mentioned it the way he mentioned it.

His leaving the city had been granted only to him – Steve could not come with him. The half-day was only to be used to visit his sister – nothing else. And Bucky was going to make sure that he obeyed that order. He did not want to put his sister's burgeoning aviation career in danger because of his own selfish wants and needs.

Pulling up to the guarded gate, he stopped and fished out his dog tags from under his uniform, displaying them for the guard. “Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th Commandos, here to see First Officer Rebecca Barnes of the Air Transport Auxiliary,” he stated to the guard.

The second guard at the booth consulted something on his clipboard before nodding to the first officer. “Third hanger from the entrance here, and to the north. Take a right when you get in and you should see the lone Dakota in that bay.”

“Dakota?” he questioned.

“Oh right, mate. Sorry. Erm, C-47,” the guard corrected.

“Thanks,” Bucky answered, and pulled away while tucking his dog tags back under his uniform.

The drive to the hangar bay was relatively short, but the sun was already beginning to rise by the time Bucky arrived and parked the jeep outside the hanger. Getting out, he entered the enormous bay, and saw that the aircraft was parked at the far end. There was a lone pair of feet, dressed in a civilian uniform of an aviator, walking around the aircraft.

“Hey, Becca,” he called out.

“Bucky!” he heard her cry out, scrambling from where she had been, and emerged from behind the port side of the aircraft.

He met her half way and swept her up into a tight hug. Whatever Philips had done to get some leave or whatever it was for Becca, to be approved, he was grateful that his commander had done so. Though it was only for a half-day, Bucky could feel his mental exhaustion, the dark days and weeks that he had experienced in the past month, melt away as he held on to his sister.

~~~

_At the same time, somewhere in London..._

“When did you find this lovely cafe?” Steve heard Peggy ask, as he sipped his coffee.

“The morning I got the phone call for field deployment,” Michael stated. “Wasn't sure when I'd be back in London, so I thought I'd treat myself to a nice breakfast.”

“Well, thank you for sharing it with us,” Peggy stated.

Steve nodded in agreement as well. The cafe was incredibly cozy, with small tables that were filled with either couples or single occupants. There were only two other groups of three besides the three of them in the cafe, but they were all enjoying the quiet atmosphere of the morning.

It reminded him of the more ritzy, expensive counterpart in New York that Bucky had found and attempted to enter one random day. Of course, the two of them had been denied entrance mainly because of how they had been dressed – rather unsophisticated and unkempt compared to the patrons of that New York cafe.

Here, it was different. Though he was in uniform, and both Peggy and Michael were smartly put together, there were a few patrons scattered throughout looking a little more than rumpled. Yet, they had been afforded the same service and courtesy as all other customers.

At the thought of his best friend, Steve couldn't help but smile into his coffee. Bucky did deserve to leave the city to go see Becca. There had been more than just fatigue that Steve had seen in his best friend's eyes. Whatever Philips had done to—

“So I heard an interesting rumor with regards to our organizations,” Michael words catapulted Steve out of his thoughts as he focused back on the present. “Namely that Colonel Philips directly confronted the head of SIS and OSS while we were gone.”

“What?” Peggy questioned before Steve could do so himself. The fact that Peggy was reacting in such a manner told him that this was something most likely heard up and down the halls of the SOE itself.

“Rumor also says that Creighton was explicitly told to stay out of the confrontation. Guess your commander had a right bone to pick with OSS and SIS,” Michael continued. “Might want to brace yourselves for a larger storm after the official reports are written up and distributed.”

“So lay low then?” Steve couldn't help but ask.

With the breaking of enemy lines, especially the enormous push at the Dragon's Teeth, he was wondering if the OSS would call upon him for whatever propaganda agenda they had up their sleeve. While he was on leave, he knew that his condition of leave, especially with the order to remain in the city, could be reversed at any time. Philips had just not told him of any duties he had to do for the press as Captain America, yet.

“Low, but not too low,” Michael shrugged. “But as I said, those are rumors. They're just strong enough that I might put some slight weight on them. I'll see what I can find out when I go in to finish up my reports today.”

“I'll do so as well,” Peggy agreed.

While Steve would have normally volunteered to see if he could find anything on his side, he knew that he had to tread carefully in this case. He could not be seen taking extreme sides, even though he was mostly working with the SSR. Captain America was supposed to be supporting all war efforts, no matter who or what they were.

“But,” Peggy continued after a moment, “don't sit at the office all day, Michael. There's a delayed Christmas celebration that we'll be hosting at the pub across the street tonight. Festivities won't officially be starting until after six, but it really gets going after eight. Please join us, if you can.”

“Just me, or will there be others there?” Michael asked, looking surprised.

“You're already a part of the Commandos, Michael,” Steve answered, glad that the topic was shifting away from slightly fraught waters. “We've adopted you. I hope you do come and enjoy yourself. Bucky, Dernier, and the others would be glad to see you there.”

Steve saw Michael blink several times in slight surprise before a grin, much like Peggy's own, split his lips. “Sure,” Michael answered. “Thank you for inviting me.”

~~~

_An airfield outside of London..._

“So, then she yells at the cat – in Russian no less – and hell if I can understand what happened next. The cat obediently ate everything on the dish.”

Bucky stared at his sister in disbelief before bursting into laughter. He was nearly in tears by the time Becca joined them. It took both of them a few minutes to calm down, but neither had to worry about containing themselves of their mirth. They were sitting on the rooftop of the hangar bay, legs draped over the edge and watching the sun rise, and the occasional aircraft taking off or landing.

“Did she start teaching Agnes how to speak Russian after that?” he asked, shaking his head slightly.

“I don't think so,” Becca answered. “That is the only phrase that Agnes knows and will say to get the cat to behave. It apparently works every time like a charm.”

Bucky didn't want to spoil the good mood between them, but he had to confirm that Becca knew about their heritage. Even if Becca didn't know, he would have to tell her – to make sure that she was aware of her surroundings. While he doubted that her employment with the ATA would result in her running into any Soviet soldiers or officials, he could never be too careful.

“< _Did Mother tell you who she really is?_ >” he asked in Russian.

“< _Distant relation to the Imperial family? Yes._ >” Becca confirmed. “< _Did she tell you what she is... or was?_ >”

Bucky frowned. “< _Not a princess?_ >” he guessed, even though he was not trying to be facetious with his words.

“< _Duchess, though not a part of the line of succession._ >” she answered, tone serious. “< _Her father... our grandfather, was a member of the Guard Department. He worked in an undercover agency in London, and she as well. It's how both she and our father initially met. She and Grandfather returned to Petrograd shortly before the revolution. She was pregnant with you, and Grandfather did not want you to be born in a foreign country, especially out of wedlock._ >”

“< _So much for that. S_ _he fled when the executions began._ >” he finished for her. “Why didn't she tell me?”

“< _She didn't know where you would be deployed to, or who you would encounter while fighting. She told you enough to protect yourself, and our family. Who knew that you'd end up with your name plastered in the weekly comic strips, and working with Captain America. You can't blame her for being cautious._ >” Becca stated.

Bucky considered her words and after a few moments, nodded in agreement. In all of his letters to his family, he had never mentioned that he was working for the SSR – only that he was a part of the Howling Commandos. And that Steve led them. Becca did not know of his role or his duties as a member of the SSR, and he vowed that she would never know.

But his sister's explanation of what exactly their mother had in connection to the circumstances that forced her to flee Petrograd, seek shelter in London, and eventually marry James Barnes Sr., made complete sense now. He also didn't blame his mother for the fact that she only told him to make sure that his accent was not of the specific one that marked them. She was right, in a sense – that no one could see the 107th eventually running into and fighting along side Soviet forces.

“< _Why did she tell you?_ >” he asked after a few moments.

“Because of Peter,” Becca answered.

“Peter?” he asked, surprised.

“Peter Templeton Proctor,” she stated. “< _Mother suspected that his name was an alias. I caught her with an unusual-looking telegraph key one night. I confronted her about what she was doing and she told me about what she did before she married._ >”

She paused for a moment, glancing out towards the airfield before returning her attention to him. “She was right. Peter's name was an alias. He's actually Peter Ramius. He's American-born, but was recruited into the NKVD. Народный комиссариат внутренних дел. They're apparently the new secret police organization of the Soviets.”

“< _Mother confronted him with the details, and he confessed. She wanted to kill him, but I begged her to spare his life. In exchange for not revealing his ties to Father's law enforcement contacts, Peter's continued his piloting duties while helping Mother find out how deep the NKVD's roots in America go._ >”

Bucky stared at his sister, stunned by what she had said. It was almost unbelievable, and yet, this was Becca. She was much like Peggy in the sense that it was clear when she was joking, versus when she was completely serious. Becca had not said anything in the last few minutes in jest.

“So... you're not getting married?” he couldn't help but ask.

“I still am,” she said, glancing down at her gloved hands, before she pulled her left glove off. There was a small silver band with a simple diamond on it. “Despite what Peter is... had been, I still love him Bucky. And I know he loves me as well. It's why he confessed, rather than run.”

“Be careful,” he cautioned, withholding the doubts that he actually wanted to say.

It was clear to him that Becca's heart had already been partially broken by mistrust from her fiance. But she was trying to repair it. Bucky had to try to believe the earnestness in her voice that her fiance was also attempting to salvage what they had.

“I know,” she answered, giving him a sad smile. “Thank you for believing in me, Bucky.”

The sat in silence for a long while. It was only after watching another aircraft land on the runway that Bucky finally asked, “< _Did you ever find out who Mother contacted?_ >”

“< _She didn't tell me a name._ >” Becca said, shaking her head slightly. “< _But she did tell me that she had some old ties in Whitechapel. She also warned that I was not to go about disturbing those ties. My guess is that she didn't want to put whomever she contacted in danger, with the war and all._ >”

Bucky silently nodded, deciding not to tell her that he may have potentially disturbed one of those supposed 'old ties' – namely David's father, Chief Inspector Samuel Brewster. Yet, as he thought back to the brief exchange he had had with the Chief Inspector about the past, he wondered if the Chief Inspector had deliberately feigned ignorance.

But such speculations was making him a little dizzy with all of the various possibilities – and he knew that he should not linger on what-ifs. Instead he dug into a pocket and pulled out the sixpence that David had given to him to pass onto Becca.

“Here,” he said, giving her the wrapped coin – minus the semi-confessional letter that David had written to him via Becca. That letter had already been burned. “David heard about your engagement. He wanted to give you this.”

He watched as she unwrapped it and laughed a little before holding up the coin. “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a sixpence in her shoe,” she murmured. “I need to remember to send him a thank you letter. I wish I could’ve met him, but Senior Commander Wakefield stated that this was special permission only. That your commander only granted you leave outside the city.”

Bucky nodded in agreement. “I have something for you as well, but I wasn't sure if it would be confiscated, if I had brought it with me,” he admitted.

“James Barnes, are you smuggling illegal liquor?” Becca asked in a rather uncannily accurate impression of their mother whenever she got angry.

“Um, no,” Bucky answered, hating that the fact he nearly shrank away at the force of her gaze – even if it had been delivered in jest. “It's one of the reserve chutes I had. I managed to smuggle it away. Pure silk. Was trying to find a way to ship it to you... without Logistics or anyone else trying to pry it open, or intercept it.”

He saw her eyes widened before tears started to gather in the corners of them. “Bucky,” she began, sniffling slightly. “That's... that's...”

She leaned over and buried her face in his chest, sniffling. Bucky patted her back as he heard her muffled, “Thank you, Bucky. You’re the best brother in the world.”

They held onto each other for a few moments before Becca managed to compose herself and slowly withdrew. Ruffling her hair as she sat upright again, he laughed at the glare she threw him before she batted his hand away.

“Not sure what Steve is giving you for your wedding present, but I caught him sketching something big, possibly about Brooklyn or something,” Bucky stated.

“Home,” she murmured. “I’d never thought I’d miss it until I came here. But it doesn’t seem like you’re missing it at all,” she stated, before tilting her head slightly as she looked at him. “I didn’t think you were telling the whole truth when you said you’ve made your peace – especially with Steve and Peggy – but, it's the truth, isn't it?”

Bucky nodded once. He knew that his sister was his largest skeptic when it came to matters of the heart, as he knew that she only wanted him to be happy. “They’re home for me. Wherever those two are, they’re my home.”

“You’ve grown, Bucky,” she said. “I remember just before you left that you said you had some regrets signing up for the service.”

“Some, but not enough to turn away from what’s happening here,” he answered. “Not happy on the way that Steve decided to join up though.”

“You and me both,” she agreed. “But I’m sure he’s already received your piece of mind on that, right?”

Bucky couldn’t help but snort in laughter. “Yeah, Steve knows that I’m not happy on those circumstances. But, can’t do anything about that punk. One track mind and all.”

“It sounds like you’ve moved on,” she said after a few moments of silence. “Did you find anyone here?”

Bucky stared out into the airfield, watching another aircraft take off. While he could outright lie to his sister, he found that he wanted to give her a peace of mind. She worried about him day and night. She had her own life to live, and he couldn’t keep anchoring her to him. He had heard the relief in her voice when he hadn’t stated the doubts about ‘Peter Templeton Proctor’ and his allegiance.

“Maybe,” he stated at last. It was all he was willing to say, under the circumstances that laid between him and Michael – especially with the on-going secret assignment he still had to complete.

He suddenly found himself leaning towards her, as Becca engulfed him in a tight embrace. “I’m glad,” she stated. “These things take time, but I’m glad for you.”

As Bucky continued to watch the horizon, he couldn’t help the bitter smile that quirked up his lips.

* * *

_SSR Headquarters..._

“... that is the extent of the knowledge that Michael and I managed to secure, sir,” Peggy finished. She dared not take a deep breath after finishing presenting the summary of the written report, as it was highly unprofessional for her to do in front of her commander.

“What of the known fact that there were other agents within the region, Carter?” Philips asked, folding his hands together.

“We didn't see them until the third day, sir,” Peggy stated. “It was Michael who spotted them first – one OSS and one SIS agent. Their identifications and associations were only inferred based on their movements, and our attempts to eavesdrop on their conversations with officials in the towns and villages.”

She was not ashamed to admit that her brother who had a keener eye, and more field experience in this particular region than she did, had been the first to spot them. Peggy knew that if she had been deployed alone, she would have eventually found the two agents as well – most likely within twelve hours of when Michael had first seen the agents.

“Any problems?” Philips asked, focused solely on her and no longer dividing his attention between the report and her. None of what she was stating now could be written down. It was because should any other entity, be it allied or not, get a hold of the report, the SSR did not want to tip their hand.

“The agents were well trained, sir,” she stated. “They were quite good in evading, watching their backs, and covering their tracks. The OSS and SIS sent their top agents to the area, and it was clear that they knew how to work the people there. Michael and I had to be extremely careful.”

“Except for this couple – Karl and Greta,” Philips stated, unfolding his hands and tapping the report.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Neither liked how the OSS or SIS agents 'rubbed' them, so to speak. It was because of the first agent, or rather sets of agents the two encountered – the Soviet agents within the region.”

“Karl and Greta wanted to somehow destroy the facility, not save it or share it with others,” Philips followed up.

“Correct, sir,” she said. “I believe it is why they chose to help and shelter us. As to the 'any problems' question – Michael and I were forced to kill a Soviet agent who got too close to discovering us, and our purpose there.”

“Name of the agent?”

“Unknown sir,” she answered. “But she was plain looking with blonde hair and brown eyes. It was her eyes that struck me as unnatural – as if haunted by what she had seen. My guess is that she might've been a part of the infantry units that fought in Stalingrad. The town where we found her had only scientists with front-level access to the facility. None of those scientists had seen the horrors behind the doors.”

“Method of death?” Philips questioned.

“Blunt force trauma. No witnesses,” Peggy stated with no inflection in her tone, even though the memory of just how the Soviet agent had died still haunted her.

Michael had been the one to administer the 'blow'. Peggy knew that he had only been trying to break into the fight between herself and the Soviet agent. The slippery snow and the force of Michael intervening had caused the Soviet agent to slip and fall down the stone stairs, smashing her head into the cold, hard ground.

Philips remained silent for a few long moments, but Peggy did not question as to what was going through his thoughts. At long last he said, “You and your brother will be debriefing the mission to destroy the HYDRA base to several top officials at the SOE Headquarters later today, Carter. Including Prime Minister Churchill.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, keeping her surprise from coloring her tone. “Anything specific you want me to avoid or coordinate with Michael prior to the debrief?”

“No,” Philips stated, shaking his head slightly. “Rogers already gave me a rough summary of what happened, and I've ordered him to not sanitize his report. I want you to do the same during the debrief, Carter.”

Peggy remained silent for a few long moments. In over the month since being shut out of the second meeting with Shostakov, she barely had had time to catch up on what had happened politically in the entire mess. What she heard now was clearly a political move and play by Philips, but it didn't sound as if it was just to showcase how destructive the HYDRA super weapon could have been.

“Sir,” she began. “Does that include—”

“Everything, Carter,” Philips interrupted. “Everything you saw with your own eyes, including what Sergeant Barnes did to the last super soldier in that facility.”

Her commander paused for a moment before pinning her with a piercing gaze, saying, “They don't know who the hell they're dealing with – we do. I asked for an army of super soldiers. The folks back home are trying their damnest to fulfill that request. But, I want them to know just how much it has cost us – cost my men and women – to clean up their mess.”

“I want them, Carter,” Philips unfolded his hands and laid them flat on the desk, “to pour their resources into finding Dr. Armin Zola. We get him, we get the brains of HYDRA – and then we get Schmidt, and the end of the war.”

* * *

_Later..._

Though most of the conversations floating around headquarters was about the upcoming celebrations happening tonight, Steve tried his best to not pay too much attention to it. Considering that the Commandos had missed last year's Christmas celebration, he found himself wanting to be surprised at just what went on at these things.

The last Christmas celebration he had gone to had been when he had been nine. All he really remembered from that time was running around with Bucky and Bucky's sisters at someone's house, causing some chaos. All other times had either been because he had fallen ill, or his mother had overworked herself and needed to be taken care of.

“So, brace yourself, Steve,” Bucky's lighthearted voice, along with the thump of him sitting on the desk directly adjacent to the one Steve was currently working at, alerted him to his friend's presence. “There's rumors of a mistletoe being hung somewhere in the pub tonight.”

Steve glanced up, and snorted in laughter, seeing him waggling his eyebrows at him. “So long as it is not a roaming mistletoe, I can avoid it,” he stated.

Instead of groaning in exasperation or making any other sort of teasing commentary as Steve had expected him to do, Bucky surprisingly shrugged and said, “All right. But promise me this, Steve. You'd better kiss Peggy at least once tonight.”

Steve couldn't help but flush slightly pink, both in embarrassment and nervousness. It was not that he wanted to kiss Peggy, it was that he really did not want to do so in front of other people. Public displays of affection always made him uncomfortable. Lorraine's unexpected kiss over a year ago had thrown him in a loop of what exactly to do. Since then, he just never found the right time to kiss Peggy.

“Not in public,” he couldn't help but mutter, glancing down at the after action report he was currently finishing up.

“I never did say in public,” Bucky stated in a solemn tone, serious as Steve glanced up to see him hop off the desk and take the seat instead.

His best friend's steady hand landed on his left shoulder as Bucky continued to say, “Look, I know all this kissing in public stuff isn't your thing. I'm fine with it, but that doesn't mean you have to be. You want to start moving further down the road with Peggy, you're going to have to at least kiss her. Just give me a signal and I'll make the appropriate excuses so you and her can get away.”

Steve couldn't help the faint smile that quirked up the edges of his lips. “Thanks,” he said, nodding.

He felt his shoulder being squeezed in reassurance once more before Bucky's eyes slid over to the report, asking, “That's the whole of it? The report going to Philips?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking up the leaflets and putting them together so that Bucky could read through it. “You don't need to write a part. Morita and Peggy filled in what happened.”

“What, not going to write in: Sergeant Barnes took the stupid with him and ran off to draw HYDRA's attention away so that Agents Carter and Carter could return with their vital information?” Bucky sarcastically asked, taking the report and began reading through it.

“From the words that Becca greeted you with, you did take the stupid with you. Didn't even see fit to return or share it with the rest of us, Buck,” he answered, though there was no heat in his words. “How is she, by the way?”

If he weren't so observant of Bucky's moods or actions towards the latter half of the entire weeks-long push to secure the Ardennes front, Steve knew that he would have missed the minute tightening of Bucky's jaw as soon as he asked that question. He had thought Bucky would have been overjoyed to see his sister – albeit circumstances could have been better for such a reunion.

“She's doing well,” Bucky answered. “She and Peter are planning to get married as soon as the war is over. Mom is apparently having some second thoughts about her eldest daughter marrying and leaving the family, but that's Mom for you. Always worrying what's best for her daughters.”

“And son,” Steve murmured. “Can't tell you how many times she came to visit the apartment when you were off in training. Sending you that sketch was one of the only ways I could assure her that she and your sisters were doing well.”

“And I kept that sketch,” Bucky answered. “Had to use the excuse to draw maps for my platoon, but I kept it with me throughout my entire training. Thank you, Steve.”

Just as Steve was about to prod his best friend into answering what might have happened during the early morning meeting with Becca, Bucky leaned over and pointed to a section in the report. “Replace that with me. I shot Karl with my pistol. Not Michael.”

Steve briefly read over the lines around the area, frowning as he looked up and said, “But both Morita and Peggy saw—”

“I hesitated, and then I shot him, Steve. Put that in the report,” Bucky stated, tone booking no argument.

“Bucky, that's falsifying—”

“And how would the brass react to an unauthorized person firing a Stark-modified pistol that was fully in my control, Steve? I gave Michael my pistol afterwards because he didn't have a weapon. The circumstances surrounding that and anything he did using my pistol _after_ I gave it to him could be construed differently than when I had my weapon in my control,” Bucky stated.

If Steve's frown could get any deeper, it tried to. Before he could question Bucky's rationale further, Philips' bark of, “Barnes!”

“Sir?” he heard Bucky respond as they both saw Philips approaching. Several code-breakers and personnel sitting near the two of them had also paused in their work and glanced up at the sudden commotion.

“Translation,” was all Philips stated.

“Carter's not here, sir?” Bucky questioned. Any other person under Philips' command would not have questioned as so, but Steve knew Bucky well enough to know that he would sometimes speak his mind without a care in the world.

“SOE Headquarters. She's debriefing far larger figures than you ever will, Barnes.”

The implied: _if you keep that attitude up_ , was left unstated. But it seemed that Philips demand for a competent Russian translator was not just about Bucky. “Is that the after action report that was supposed to be on my desk two hours ago, Rogers?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve stated, taking the report from Bucky and shuffled it back in order – untouched. He wordlessly handed it to his commander as he heard Bucky get up and walk past him without another word.

As he watched Bucky follow Philips and enter their commander's office, he couldn't help but worry a little. While the report would clearly show that Karl's request was unreasonable to any sane person, Bucky's words to change who wounded Karl sounded almost... defensive.

As if his best friend was trying to make sure that Michael did not get in trouble for anything that happened during the campaign to secure the Ardennes.

~~~

“NVKD. Soviet secret police. What do you know about them?” Bucky questioned as soon as Philips began playing the recording.

There was almost no one in headquarters, as most of them were already at the pub, or had taken the rest of the day off to get ready for the Christmas celebration. While empty, it seemed that Philips was taking some precaution, playing one of the old recordings from the second meeting with Shostakov over a month ago.

“I’ll pretend that you did add a ‘sir’ to that question, and that you weren’t demanding in your tone, Sergeant Barnes,” Philips stated, putting Steve's report on his desk but did not look at it. “But to answer your question, very little. As soon as the Imperial throne fell, it was locked doors for the Soviet Union. All I know is that they're effective saboteurs. But they've also targeted non-Communist resistance movements – at least that's some of the rumors floating in the OSS as to why their propaganda machine isn't as effective in parts of Europe than in other places.”

“They have operations State-side, sir,” he stated, trying to keep his anger out of his tone. “Specifically, they deliberately targeted my family _after_ the Estonia mission. My sister's fiance was one of their agents. He was recruited into the NVKD as a citizen to spy on his fellow countrymen. He confessed after being confronted, and apparently turned.”

Silence answered his statement and for a moment, Bucky thought that Philips was going to explode in anger at him. Yet, Philips did nothing of the sort and picked up the phone.

“Get me a line to Scotland Yard, Whitechapel. Chief Inspector Samuel Brewster,” Philips stated in a calm but commanding tone. “Double encryption, Baker-level. And give yourself a ten-minute smoking break as soon as the line is answered.”

Bucky's eyes widened ever so slightly as there was a few seconds wait after Philips had requested the line be connected to a certain person at Scotland Yard. He couldn't help but wonder what exactly David's father had in connection to Philips – and directly to what he had just stated. He had thought that perhaps the ties between his mother's former work here, and now were old and disused.

“This is Philips. Your son is fine. This is about another matter – specifically the one I asked you to look into, with regards to the Barnes family,” Philips stated over the phone. There was a few seconds pause before Philips continued to say, “Understood. I doubt it, but—”

Bucky saw Philips' eyes flick up at him for a second before focusing back on the phone. “Then I'll trust your judgment. Thank you, and good night, sir.”

As much as he wanted to ask what that was about as soon as Philips hung up the phone, he waited. “Keeping Chief Inspector Brewster's son out of this entire mess was one of the conditions I had agreed to, when the Chief Inspector approached me shortly after he found out that his son gained employment under Stark. So I am ordering you to keep this to yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky stated, feeling a little apprehensive.

“I did a little more research on the survivors of the Imperial family's purge,” Philips stated, folding his hands together and rested them on the desk. “There wasn't much except the usual debutante or high society mingle. Except when it came specifically to your family. It was only after you told me about your mother that I confirmed with the Chief Inspector as to what she really was.”

Philips unfolded his hands, saying, “But I'm sure you already know about that. According to the Chief Inspector, there should be no worries for your family's safety after that incident with your sister's fiance. He stated that you were more like your mother than anyone else. He also said that considering your talent and abilities in the field, then it is highly likely that your mother has subdued the threat. I'm inclined to believe him.”

Bucky remained silent for a few long moments before nodding, “Then I'll believe him as well. Though may I ask, what was his role in all of this? Between him and my mother?”

“I am led to believe that he, along with your father, had been opposed to your mother and her establishment long ago. After all, what government would ever want foreign spies actively operating on their soil?” Philips stated. “But that is speculation, considering what little information I have on British intelligence services and their interaction with foreign ones just before the end of the Great War.”

Bucky silently nodded, and left the matter alone. Instead he stated, “I have nothing new to report on my current assignment then. What happened in the Ardennes should be sufficiently covered by the reports from Agent Carter and Captain Rogers.”

“Understood, Sergeant,” Philips answered. “And that argument I was hearing out there?”

“Nothing sir,” he answered. It was useless to lie to Philips, not when he knew Peggy most likely already presented her report before departing for SOE Headquarters. “Just arguing about wording on the report, that is all, sir.”

“I see. Dismissed, Barnes.”

~~~

_At the same time, at SOE Headquarters..._

It was only half way down the hall that Peggy heard Michael angrily whisper to her, “You didn't have to do that, Pegs. You didn't have to tell all of them, least of all Churchill himself what exactly happened. They didn't need to know what Bucky had done to that super soldier—”

Peggy glanced around quickly and down the next hall, before pulling her brother with her, cutting off his words. She heard the hurt, anger, and protectiveness in his tone, and it was only quickly verifying that the nearest office was empty that she pulled Michael into and closed the door.

“You didn't have to make me party to that, Peggy,” Michael stated, shaking her hand off and took a few steps away from her.

She watched him turn away from her, not quite staring at the painting that hung in the office, with a frown on his lips. He didn't say anything else though, and just continued to stare far and away. She didn't need him to say any other words though – he had made his feelings about the matter, and point clear in the first few words.

“I was ordered to, Michael,” Peggy quietly answered, wringing her hands together for a moment.

It was still fresh in her memories, even though there had been an hour of light conversation after the debrief that she and her brother had given to Churchill. That meeting had also been attended by a few of Churchill's staff, along with Fred, SIS's commander, MI5's representative, MI6's commander, and the current Secretary of the Home Office.

Most had remained composed, but Peggy had seen it in their body language – how most of them had shifted the tiniest of movements in the seats as soon as they found out that she had been in the field, fighting alongside the Commandos.

Many of them were uncomfortable with the fact that she had had a front and center view of the horrors of war. It hadn't escaped her notice that Fred had glowered at the fact that Steve had allowed her to go with them – that Steve was willing to take the blame for making the wrong call, if she had been killed. All of them became downright concerned as soon as she had begun to detail what exactly they had all seen and done during the fight against HYDRA.

“Philips,” Michael stated, anger still in his tone.

He turned around, shaking his head at her. “Why? Was it your commander's intention to expose Bucky as a super soldier as well? That, it's now apparent to me that this Dr. Zola person was the one who augmented him? Because I was under the impression that that was to be kept under wraps—”

“Because of the toll of fighting there, and destroying the place it took on all of us,” she interrupted him.

Silence sat between the two of them. This was the first time in their lives that their careers clashed – that they were having a professional argument. It didn't help that both of them were mixing personal feelings into this. Her, the fact that she agreed with Philips about needing to show just how much the idiotic political war being waged between the OSS, SIS, SOE, and SSR had cost them. Michael, his feelings for Bucky, mixed in with the frustration of what was to happen now.

“And other things you can't tell me,” she heard him state.

She nodded in agreement. “Michael,” she began, “if I could—”

Peggy didn't get to finish her statement as the office door suddenly opened. The occupant to the office was a mousy-looking man with a pencil-thin nose and glasses that were perched near the end of his nose like a tiny sparrow.

“Oh, sorry there, Greg,” Michael spoke up, all traces of anger gone as a sheepish, if not apologetic tone took its place. “We were just on our way out.”

“No worries, you two,” the man stated, as Peggy gave Greg a nod and smile before walking past him to get out. She nearly paused in her steps though, as she brushed by Greg – for a moment, there was an overwhelming, familiar smell on him.

Sulfur mixed with airplane fuel.

Peggy forced herself to continue to walk, until she was out the office and in the hall. It was only after the door to the office closed, and the air displaced by the closing door that she picked up the scent again. It clearly came from Greg, and his walking here – as she took a few experimental steps down the hall and away from Greg's office.

“Pegs?” she heard her brother question.

“You didn't smell it?” she asked him, stopping for a moment to sniff the air again and relocate where the scent had come from. The argument had not been forgotten, but rather put to the side. If what she smelled was true, then...

She continued to walk down the hall, taking a left and then immediately another left. Michael was following behind her, and soon, the two of them arrived at a dead end. Or at least what looked to be a dead end.

“How strange,” Peggy couldn't help but murmur as she stared at the sealed door that clearly led to the tunnels of the Underground.

Dust and cobwebs covered the corners of the heavy metal door. This had been one of the many evacuation routes in the building to get to the Underground for safety during the Blitz. It didn't look like it had been opened since the last siren in 1942.

“Smell what, Peggy?” Michael asked.

“Fuel and sulfur,” Peggy stated, frowning at him. “The same smell we were confronted with at Limehouse. It was on Greg, and it leads here.”

She saw the same frown reflected on his face as he shook his head. “Are you sure?” he asked, concerned.

“Definitely,” she stated, feeling slightly alarmed at the fact that he didn't smell anything. “It was almost overpowering on him, but as soon as I recognized it, it seemed to disappear. It was much like the first two times in Vauxhall.”

Michael closed the distance to her and placed both hands on her shoulder, looking down into her eyes. “Are you sure you're not just tired, Pegs? I know we still have our differences, but perhaps that debrief was a little intense – for both of us.”

As much as Peggy wanted to insist that she had not hallucinated the scent, she didn't. Her brother was right in a partial sense; she was feeling tired from the briefing. Yet, as she glanced at the door before focusing her attention back on Michael, she couldn't help but feel that she was right – that she had **smelled** that noxious mixture.

“Perhaps you're right,” she stated. “But—”

“I'll go check on Greg, Pegs,” Michael agreed, nodding. “You best be going and getting ready for the party. I expect there may be a mistletoe, and I'd hate for you to miss out getting a kiss from Steve.”

Peggy wrinkled her nose at him, shaking her head in exasperation. “Hush, you,” she stated, but couldn't help the smile. “I'll make sure that mistletoe ends up over your head. Let you deal with your crush of admirers, while Steve and I enjoy the peace and quiet.”

“So long as that mistletoe also ends up over the had of a certain someone,” Michael began, but didn't finish his statement as he let her go and turned her around. He gave her a small push down the hall, while waving goodbye.

Despite their argument, and their frustrations, Peggy couldn't help smile slightly while continuing down. She could depend on her brother to keep her appraised of the situation with Greg and the noxious scent. They were of two different organizations with the similar goals, but dependable when it came to stopping the enemy.

~~~

_SSR Headquarters, rooftop..._

As much as Bucky wanted to take out a cigarette and light it up, he didn't. He was going into a den of smoke and alcohol shortly. Instead, he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of London's traffic.

It was cold up here, but he didn't mind it. Just the sounds of the relative silence, of something normal and not of the battlefield was comforting. Yet, his moment of peace was disturbed all too quickly with the sound of the rooftop door opening and closing.

“I'm sorry for not being able to get this to you earlier, Bucky,” David's voice drew his eyes open as he glanced over to see his friend approaching.

David was dressed up smartly for the celebrations, even though Bucky doubted that there would be much dancing, and more on the order of carousing and card games than anything else. He saw him reach into a coat pocket and withdrew a small piece of paper that was no bigger than his palm. His friend put the paper in his hand, and while it was slightly difficult to see, there seemed to be a tiny dot of sorts in the center of the paper.

“Modified microdot, Bucky,” David stated. “Able to transmit one-way signals. I tested it on Emily, without her knowing, and then told her about my experiment afterwards. Didn't mention you as the requester though. I figured that you'd want it that way, considering the hush-hush nature of your request.”

“Thanks,” he stated, as the sobering reality of what he needed to do next to continue to try to vet Michael and untangle him from Shostakov's aide, settled.

“The magnetic tape recording it is here,” David stated, gesturing for him to follow to where it looked as if there was a sealed chimney from the building. A small shed-like door protruded from the side, unobtrusive and looking as if it belong on the rooftop.

“Range?” he asked.

“At least five miles, if not more,” David stated. Bucky nearly whistled in surprise but David continued, saying, “The consequence of that is that the microphone is extremely sensitive. It will pick up a lot of extraneous noise. Even now, it's recording us with clarity.”

“Oh,” he stated, folding the paper up carefully and stuffing it into the inner part of his uniform's pocket.

“It can still record through all those layers, Bucky,” David stated, as Bucky saw him grimace slightly. “I put the dot under Emily's blouse collar, and it caught even the faintest noise of her fidgeting at her desk, or her blouse moving when she walks.”

“Maybe the steady beating of my heart will calm someone down, if they happen to listen to it,” Bucky stated, smiling slightly.

That got a bark of laughter out of David, as he saw him shake his head. “Perhaps. But the tape does have a loop of about a day. By this time tomorrow, this conversation won't exist on the magnetic tape anymore.”

Bucky frowned slightly. “Any way that that can be extended? If I'm gone on an extended mission, like the one in the Ardennes, I'm not going to be able to switch out tapes or listen to them.”

“I can switch them out for you, when you're not here,” David offered.

“Then I need you to promise to never listen to them,” Bucky stated. When David hesitated in agreeing to the request, Bucky reached out and place a hand on his friend's shoulder. “David. What I'm doing with these recordings is dangerous. You did a great job creating this, but now I'm going to need you to stay out of it. It's for your own good.”

“But I can help,” David protested. “You've trained Emily and I – you've trained me to be more—”

“And I'm telling you that what I'm currently doing is much too dangerous for you to get involved in,” he interrupted.

“And what are you doing Bucky? Why do you need to record someone? Who gave you this assignment? Does Agent Carter even know about it?” David asked, looking slightly hurt at being shut out.

Bucky didn't answer him. Instead, he withdrew his hand from David's shoulder. He then drew the paper with the microdot out and extended it to David. He was not going to use the device unless he had David's promise to never listen to the recordings.

Firstly, his own promise to Philips to keep the young man out of the Chief Inspector's other 'dealings' was not only a promise to that, but to also begin withdrawing David from this whole espionage business. Secondly, what was potentially going to be recorded would hurt David – if the young man ever listened to them. Bucky did not want to hurt his friend even further than he already did with his lies.

David stared at Bucky's hand for five long seconds before closing his eyes and sighing in defeat. “I promise, Bucky,” the young man stated as Bucky saw him open his eyes again, nodding to his words. “And I'm sorry. Just... just be careful, all right?”

Bucky returned the microdot to his inner pocket. “Thank you,” he quietly stated. “And I will.”

* * *

_Later, at the pub..._

Steve couldn't help but openly laugh as DumDum buried his head in his hands over the loss of yet another round. Though he, along with Peggy, Bucky, Michael, Emily, and David were sitting at another table in the pub, they had been watching the intense game at the main table with some interest.

It was not just because someone decided to ante up the stakes by making each loser who did not fold, strip a piece of clothing. It was mainly because Bucky had elected _not_ to participate in the game. That had caused some curious stares to be directed at his best friend, but Steve was slightly glad Bucky was not joining the game. It made for a far more interesting, if not downright bawdy entertainment for the rest of them.

Without Bucky constantly beating the rest of the Commandos at cards, Steve could clearly see now who was a good or bad card player. Morita surprisingly, was holding himself quite well within the game – it was just such a shame that Bucky kept beating him whenever he played.

“I'm out,” DumDum declared after he mournfully placed his bowler hat to the side and on the pile of clothing he had already discarded.

Bucky was already in the midst of shuttling up a chair for DumDum as the mustachioed Commando ambled up to them, mug of ale in his hands. The only fortunate thing was that the stakes only called for stripping to underwear. It was not like the full strip that the Commandos had done during that one time in the field, when someone thought they could get Bucky to lose at a game.

“So what's going on, boys and girls?” DumDum somewhat drunkenly asked. “Show's not done yet, so there's plenty more to see where that came from.”

“Watching you lose is like watching a car careen out of control... but slowly,” Bucky drawled. “And with less grace as it crumples into pieces at the end.”

“Fucking hate you, Barnes,” DumDum muttered to the laughter of the others. “Why'd you have to be a warrior-poet as well?”

Steve heard Bucky snort in laughter as the others returned their attention to the ongoing game. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Peggy lean slightly over to him, saying, “I'm calling it a night. I'm getting rather tired.”

“I'll walk you home, then,” he answered. A moment later, they got up at the same time, drawing some attention to themselves. Conscious of the attention, Steve managed to say without stammering, “We're calling it a night.”

To his surprise, no one reacted the way he thought they would react – wolf whistles or some innuendo thrown about. “Good night and see you tomorrow, Cap,” DumDum said, giving him a wave of his hand before taking a sip of his ale. “You too, Pegs.”

Either his Commandos were more tired than he realized to not even throw out their usual comments, or it was truly getting late and _everyone_ was getting tired. Steve took the relative simplistic goodbyes for what they were. Saying goodnight to Bucky, Michael, Emily, David, and the other Commandos took little time, and soon both he and Peggy were out the door and in the cold.

Wrapping an arm around Peggy, Steve held her close as they began walking down the fairly empty streets. “It's later than I thought,” he couldn't help but murmur as they passed by a street lamp that illuminated a clock.

“Time flies when you're having fun,” Peggy murmured from beside him. “But it was well-deserved fun. For all of us.”

“It was,” he agreed.

Though he wanted to say more, he stopped himself. He wanted to enjoy the walk and moment between him and the woman he loved – not ruin it with heavy questions that could be saved until later. It was something he tried to do every time the two of them had a moment together, but it was difficult to let everything go and just _enjoy_.

“What is it?” Peggy asked after a few minutes of walking in peaceful silence.

He glanced down at her, seeing her look up with him with an expectant look. “That bad, huh?” he couldn't help but ask.

“You always have this peculiar look on your face whenever something seems to weigh you down, Steve,” she stated. “What is it?”

Steve wanted to answer 'nothing', but he knew that Peggy would not let it rest until he had it out and explained to her. “What happened at the HYDRA base... I'm sorry you and Michael had to see all of that. It was—”

“War, Steve,” she quietly answered. “It was war. I just hope that when HYDRA is defeated, when this war ends, we will not have to experience any of that ever again.”

He silently nodded to her words as they continued to walk. Her words were not meant to be comforting, and he didn't expect them to be. They were practical, but left with hope that perhaps, the future would be a better place – that the two of them and others who had experience such horror would use that to make the world a better place.

“Any heavy duties tomorrow?” he asked after a few more minutes of silent walking.

“I was about to ask you the same,” she answered, as he glanced down to see that she had a more lighthearted, but still serious look on her face.

“Another investigation?” he asked, curious.

“I'm not sure,” she answered, eyebrows furrowing slightly together. “Remember that smell – the sulfur and airplane fuel smell?”

“What about it?” he asked, slightly apprehensive.

“A most curious of a man within the SOE headquarters carried that scent on him. He passed by Michael and I, but Michael apparently didn't smell it. Neither did a few others the man had passed prior to the two of us. I'm quite certain that I am not just smelling things, just because...”

“Did you trace the origin? Or was it only on that man?” Steve asked.

“Perhaps, but it led to a dead end – or rather an emergency exit to the Underground,” Peggy answered. “Michael says that the exit hasn't been used since the end of the Blitz – and it looks like it hasn't.”

Steve nodded, though he was beginning to feel a little worried. “But you still want to investigate... without alerting the SOE, I take it?”

“Yes. It would help if I had a second person with me, as there might be places that I'll not be able to reach and need a boosting hand to help,” she said, nodding in agreement.

“Well then, what time and where shall I meet you tomorrow?” he asked, trying to not let his worry seep into his tone. It would cause Peggy to become even more worried.

He knew from Philips telling him that the Limehouse incident had already been closed in terms of Scotland Yard and other British agencies' investigation. To reopen something that the SSR had been clearly told to stay out of was bound to cause more than just headaches – especially with the added ramifications of the HYDRA base being destroyed.

Diplomatically and politically, the SSR was running thin and low on both. To turn the SOE against them was the last thing he knew Peggy wanted to do, but Steve knew that she would not have let this 'odd scent' go so easily. The fact that only she smelled it, and neither Michael nor others smelled it was even more curious. He knew Michael had been present with them for the majority of the Limehouse incident – Michael must have seared the scent into his memories.

“Morning, after rush hour, at the nearest Tube station to the SSR,” Peggy stated.

“I'll be there.”

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a humorous scene after Steve and Peggy leaving and while they're walking down the streets, that wasn't written, but planned. Basically, its just Bucky curling his head onto the table, semi-sarcastically cheering that Steve is finally moving baby steps forward with Peggy. He's also lamenting that he couldn't believe that it took him over a year-and-a-half to get them to this point. David and Emily are trying not to laugh because they know just how frustrated Bucky has been when it comes to 'matchmaking' Steve and Peggy. DumDum pats his back in sympathy, and eventually Michael does the same.
> 
> It wasn't written because it would've spoiled the mysterious mood of Steve and Peggy's new (but actually ongoing) investigation into the odd smell, first dealt with at the Vauxhall banks on the Thames, and then at the Limehouse shipyards.


	13. Hour of the Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 4, Episode 1.

**Chapter 13: Hour of the Wolf**

_December 29 th, 1944, somewhere in London..._

This time, it was the muffled sounds of London's morning traffic that slowly woke Bucky up. He was once again, enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and sleepiness as he slowly opened his eyes. He hadn't felt this rested since the first night he had spent sleeping in Michael's bed.

As he became more awake and more aware, he realized that he was lying curled slightly on his right side. Lying only a few inches from him was Michael, and it looked like he was already awake.

“Morning,” he heard Michael murmur as he saw him smile. There was nothing but kindness and gentleness in Michael's eyes as Bucky saw his gaze shift to roam around his face.

“You look like you slept well,” Michael continued to say. “Did you?”

Sleepiness still fogged some of his thoughts, even though Bucky wanted to answer with a smart remark. Instead, he settled for silently nodding in affirmation as best as he could. It was the truth, and he didn't know why he slept so well – twice now.

As much as he wanted to attribute his restfulness to sex – or rather the exhaustion that came after sex – he didn't. He knew that his guard should have been up around Michael; that he should not have slept like a baby each time.

“Good,” Michael answered, relief coloring his tone. “I'm glad.”

“I didn't keep you up, did I?” he asked, feeling slightly concerned that perhaps his guard had been up, but only against something like an ambush. It was how he had slept whenever keeping position as a sniper during training: pure exhaustion winning out, but his body still on guard and ready to attack even when his mind slept.

“No,” Michael answered, as Bucky's eyes followed Michael's movements. He saw Michael withdraw his right hand that laid between them, and gently place his palm against his chest – right over his heart.

“I'm worried about you,” Michael stated. “Or rather, worried about what's to come for you.”

Bucky couldn't help but frown slightly. It didn't sound as if Michael was indicating that he was having some trouble coping with what he had seen at the HYDRA facility. Michael had not given any indication that he was appalled at what Bucky had done to that final super soldier, nor had condemned him in any way shape or form.

Yet, for a few long minutes, Michael didn't finish his thoughts. Bucky just felt Michael play and lightly tap his fingertips on his chest, watching as his eyes seemed to focus only there. Finally, after a few more minutes of patiently waiting, Bucky reached up from under the blankets with his left hand. He clasped it over Michael's hand.

“Philips ordered Peggy to tell Churchill and the others at the SOE briefing what happened at the facility. Every single action taken, and word spoken,” Michael quietly stated, before flicking his eyes up to look directly into his eyes. “They know that you're a super-soldier, just like Steve. Except that Dr. Zola was the one who augmented you.”

Bucky let go of Michael's hand, but his frown didn't get any deeper. It had always been unstated among his friends, especially among the Commandos, that he had been transformed to something close to a super-soldier. The fact that Zola had all but openly state that he was the architect of Bucky's enhanced skills was a testament to the fact that his friends – even Steve – had not treated him any differently.

They didn't care if he was a super-soldier or not.

But others not his friends did, and he knew exactly why Philips had ordered Peggy to explicitly state everything that had happened at the HYDRA facility. The US Army wanted an army of super-soldiers, and Steve was their only successful one. Bucky could reasonably assume that whatever the scientists were doing back home in the past year-and-a-half was failure after failure to replicate Dr. Erskine's formula.

Offering up Dr. Zola as another scientist who had 'created' him, Bucky, as a successful super-soldier – no matter how much Bucky hated his augmentations – was a devious political move. It would not just kill two birds with one stone: eliminate HYDRA's top scientist from the field, and get a potentially viable source or way to get a super-solder formula. It could potentially cripple HYDRA entirely.

HYDRA's super weapon facility was already dust, and thus, it was reasonable to assume that HYDRA was hunkering down and consolidating what they had. That meant that Schmidt was going to ground even further. If they could get Zola, they could come incredibly close, if not right on top of where Schmidt was hiding.

“Philips did the right thing,” he stated.

Bucky saw surprise, followed by concern flash through Michael's eyes. As much as he wanted to state the reasons in his brief half-second analysis, he didn't. He still hadn't untangled Michael from Shostakov's aide's schemes. And, Michael was not SSR – he was SOE.

“So that's how it's going to be,” Michael stated. Bucky clearly heard him try to keep the bitterness and hurt out of his tone. “You'll have your secrets, I'll have mine. It's a wonder the divorce rates are high among those in the espionage business.”

“You can apply for a transfer,” Bucky quietly suggested, even though he did not want to.

Having Michael directly in the SSR in his current state of unknown potential association with Soviet forces was dangerous. Yet, he did not want to continue to hurt him. Bucky knew that he was only setting himself up for an incredibly painful 'divorce' from Michael; when he finally would tear their relationship apart because of his secret assignment.

“Or we can both leave this business after the war ends,” Michael answered. “Remain here, or wherever Steve and Peggy will go, and do something else for our careers.”

Bucky couldn't help the sad smile that quirked up his lips as he reached out with his left hand and brushed the lock of hair that had fallen into Michael's eyes. “That's not you,” he stated. “You live for this stuff. I clearly saw that while we were in the field.”

This time, Michael caught his hand and weaved their fingers together, resting their clasped hands between them. “Is that what you told Philips to complete your assignment? That I can now rest easy, knowing that he trusts me?”

Bucky glanced down for a few moments before raising his eyes again. “I haven't told him yet,” he admitted. “But I will once I return from leave.”

Despite his admission, and even though it Bucky had no intention of fulfilling it, Michael didn't seem to be annoyed or angry. Yet, there seemed to now be a slightly mischievous glint in his eyes. “Avoiding headquarters to avoid any further unexpected assignments?” Michael questioned, faintly smiling.

“Something like that, yeah,” Bucky agreed.

Philips had not assigned him any targets to take out during the leave granted to the Commandos. Yet, Bucky wouldn't put it past his commander to find some way to get an assassination assignment to him during leave – even if he didn't show up at headquarters until leave was complete. He found himself wanting his leave to be an actual leave – even if he still had to vet, untangle, and clear Michael from the Shostakov's aide mess.

“In that case, then,” Michael began, pausing for a moment to kiss him, “may I?”

“Yes.”

* * *

_Within the London Underground, at the nearest station to SSR Headquarters..._

Steve wasn't the best at copying peoples' behavior, but he had learned a lot about holding up a newspaper or some large object to obscure most of his face. All of that had been from his days in the USO.

Whenever he wanted to be left alone, he'd usually take his sketchpad to some quiet corner and made sure he had an intense look of concentration on his face as he sketched. Other times, it was holding up and reading the newspaper that gave him a much needed few minutes of peace and quiet.

While it wasn't quite the same at the moment, Steve was glad to see that Peggy had given him a silent nod of approval for his improvisation with the newspaper. He was covering and obscuring most of her activities to unlock a maintenance door near the platform of the London Underground station. The crowds breezed past him with barely a second glance.

“I'm in,” he heard Peggy whisper as he saw her force the door open before quickly slipping inside.

Steve waited a few moments, glancing up and down the corridor to see that the amount of people was tapering off. The next train would not arrive for another two minutes. As soon as the corridor was clear for one blissful second, Steve folded the paper, tucked it under his arm, and slipped in as well.

Peggy already had a flashlight out, and was panning it about. She silently gestured for him to follow her. Together, they made their way through the twists and turns, until they got to the door that led directly into the track tunnels.

He was not entirely comfortable with the idea of sneaking around – especially through live and active sections of the London Underground – to get to that particular SOE building's door. Yet, considering that Peggy stated that she had clearly smelled the noxious scent, was concerning enough.

He believed her, but he also hoped that they would be proven wrong – that the case at Limehouse was permanently closed. That also meant that neither wanted to disturb or alert station guards to what they were doing – hence the sneaking about.

“Wait,” Steve whispered to her, going forward and placing a hand on the door handle. He pressed an ear against the door and heard the faint rumble of an incoming train. The whooshing sound and rattling of the door was heard a few seconds later.

It was only a few seconds after the noise and rattling of the door settled that Steve finally opened it. He jumped out first, and helped Peggy out onto the tracks. They carefully and quickly made their way down the tunnel until they got to an interchange. Peggy took a left, and Steve followed her. He could still hear the hum of the electrified area around him, but it was getting fainter and fainter as they continued down the tunnel.

This particular tunnel was not a part of the active Underground lines. Given the state of disrepair and general potent smell of sewage, Steve had to surmise that this particular area had suffered some failure of a sort to shut it down. Either way, it seemed that Peggy knew how to navigate the maze of inactive tunnels.

After what felt like a half hour of carefully picking their way through the inactive tunnels, Peggy stopped before they could round a bend. She held up her hand before turning off her flashlight.

Steve's eyes immediately adjusted to the darkness. He reached out and lightly grasped her hand, but did not say a word. She turned her hand in his over and tapped out a message in Morse code:

< _Around the bend and five hundred feet after that is the emergency exit. Do you smell anything beyond this foul sewage scent?_ >

< _No_ ,> he answered her. < _It's potent enough that it's overwhelming my nose. It's a good cover for the fuel and sulfur smell. I'll take the lead._ >

He saw her silently nod and turned her hand back over so that he had a good grip on her own. Carefully and silently making his way forward, he crept up the disused tracks and listened for any sign of anything amiss. As for the smell, there was nothing he could do.

However, just as Steve emerged from the bend, he stopped as light suddenly spilled out into the dark tunnel about five hundred feet ahead. Someone had opened the SOE headquarters emergency door.

Flattening both himself and Peggy against the damp wall, he tried to see who exactly it was who had emerged, but the lightning conditions were not conducive to identification. All he saw was a shadow of a man, before the exit was quickly closed.

Neither of the moved for a few moments as the unknown stranger hopped down from the crumbling platform and began to _casually_ walk further down the tunnel. Steve couldn't help but glance over at Peggy with a slightly puzzled look. They had been walking in the darkness long enough for her eyes to have adjusted as well.

She shrugged and silently gestured that they should follow the stranger. While Steve was curious, he couldn't help the uneasy feeling that bloomed in his stomach. Peggy had stated that the door looked sealed, and had even told by Michael said that the door was sealed. Yet, this stranger had emerged from the door as if he had done so numerous amounts of time.

Something unusual was going on. Steve had a feeling that the stranger they were following was only a drop in the bucket of whatever it was HYDRA had attempted to do at Limehouse and Vauxhall.

* * *

_Later..._

He had permission from Michael to remain in the apartment for as long as he wanted. Albeit it was unstated that he needed to be careful and quiet to not arouse any suspicions from any neighbors who may have remained in their own apartments for the day.

Bucky chose not to remain in the apartment.

Instead, he had waited until he saw Michael emerge from the apartment. The SOE agent began walking in the general direction of where SOE Headquarters was located. Climbing out of the window he had entered from, Bucky climbed _up_ , not down.

On the rooftop, he ran over to where he had dropped off a small satchel behind an electrical box after he had returned from the airfield. The long trench coat he pulled out from the satchel was not much to look at, but it was all he could do on short notice. The fedora as well – as he couldn't well wear his cover and expect to walk around blended with the crowd.

It was both fortunate and unfortunate that it was such a blustery day, as Bucky tucked his uniform's cover into the long coat and cinched the coat tightly around him. For the fedora, while it rested firmly on his head, he had to hold onto it as he sprinted across the rooftop and across two others before finding an empty, dirty-looking alleyway to climb down into.

Drawing the fedora low, Bucky quickly made his way out and back onto the streets. The morning rush hour was nearly finished, but there was still enough of a crowd for him to blend in. No one paid attention to him, and he didn't see anyone acting suspicious like in his vicinity.

He caught up to Michael, still headed in the direction of the SOE Headquarters. There was a half a city block, and several people that separated them. Bucky maintained that distance. As they approached SOE Headquarters, he was slightly surprised that Michael walked past it.

Bucky had hoped that his unobtrusive following of Michael to his workplace was just plain old unfounded suspicion. He had hoped that Michael would enter and that would be it – he could begin to ease up on his surveillance of the SOE agent. That he could just let the microdot microphone do its work.

He knew that a part of him was making up excuses as he continued to discreetly follow Michael. Perhaps Michael was just walking past to go to the nearest deli. After all, it was almost lunch time, and the two of them had certainly spent most of the morning _breakfasting_ , among other things.

Perhaps Michael had some laundry to collect. The SOE agent did have an extensive wardrobe full of many different clothing for all sorts of disguises. It would make sense to charge the SOE itself to maintain the cleanliness of the most expensive portions of that wardrobe.

Perhaps—perhaps—perhaps. Bucky mentally shook his head; knowing that the excuses were just denials of what was happening in front of him.

Michael's rather long journey on foot carried him to the Southwark Bridge – the least trafficked bridge that crossed the Thames. Bucky immediately diverted and brought a newspaper. He leaned against the corner of the building nearest to the bridge and pretended to read the paper.

He occasionally flicked his eyes up as he watched Michael ascend the bridge. Estimating the rough distance across to the other side of the Thames – coupled with the pace that Michael had, Bucky knew he had to wait at least five solid minutes.

He couldn't cross the bridge with the distance he had put between himself and Michael. The bridge and the lack of crowded foot traffic on the bridge would completely expose him, if Michael so much glanced back.

The wait seemed excruciating, compared to the patient waiting he had done as a sniper. Whether it was the cold wind nipping at him, or the fact that he knew that there was a good possibility that he could lose sight of where Michael was going, he made himself be patient.

After five minutes though, Bucky folded up the paper and tucked it under an arm. He began moving and forced himself to walk across the bridge. Michael was already a speck on the horizon, but Bucky dared not break out into a run or walk faster. Both of those types of movement would just draw attention to himself.

He was half-way across the bridge when he saw Michael turn right at the first alleyway just before a main road that ran perpendicular to the bridge. Yet, he still did not hurry up. In fact, he slowed down.

Instincts honed by years of running after, away, or setting ambushes for bullies screamed at him to be cautious. Bucky didn't pause on the bridge though, and tilted his head up slightly to get a better look at his surroundings.

There was a cafe directly across from the alleyway. Yet, thought he saw at least one person sitting near the window, occasionally glancing up and staring down the alleyway. The person was most likely a lookout of some sort.

Two other lookouts were a little more difficult for him to pick out, but Bucky spotted them on the rooftop with a gust of wind that briefly parted the grey cloudy skies. The brief stream of sunlight glinted off the reflective lenses of the binoculars that both men had. The rooftop lookouts were stationed on the buildings that made up either side of the alleyway.

Nevertheless, Bucky continued to calmly walk across the bridge and rejoined the crowds on this side of the Thames. He glanced down the alleyway out of the corner of his eyes. What he saw was very little, but it worried him.

On occasion, his instincts were enough to warn him not approach – not because of bullies though. These were instincts that guided him as a sniper – the killer instincts. As soon as he laid brief eyes on the nondescript building, he knew that Michael had gone into that building.

In addition to that, the lookouts watching the building like eagles were not ordinary. Bucky couldn't tell where or what organization employed them, and that made him uneasy. Sure, he expected some British intelligence organization charged with protecting the home front to be guarding what looked like a 'safe house', but governmental agents were almost always easily identifiable.

He had learned that from his father – no matter how much he hated him. Suited, polished, and always packing a visible weapon as a deterrent, he had seen a few British government-related agents or law enforcement officials among the crowds of the morning.

Forcing himself to breathe normally and continue to walk, Bucky took a left and entered the cafe. He ordered something small, asked for a pencil, and took a seat near the furthest corner of the cafe.

Taking the paper and unfolding it to the classified section, he began to pretend to read through the ads. With the lookout sitting at the window, Bucky hoped that he could count on the lookout making some kind of movement or indication as to when Michael left that building. It was up to the microdot now, to record what he could not see or hear.

* * *

It was a path to nowhere.

Despite his and Peggy's best efforts, the strange man they had tried to follow had given them the slip. It was much like how the young man at Vauxhall had slipped into the fog twice – just barely out of reach of him or Peggy.

Peggy had risked turning the flashlight back on and briefly panned it up and down the tunnel they had lost the strange man at. Steve had even gone a few feet further down either side, but had not found any trace of the strange man. It was as if the man had literally disappeared into thin air.

They had retraced their steps to the SOE door. Both he and Peggy had attempted to discern any kind of noxious scent from standing close enough to lick the door – but that too had been a dead end. Yet, Steve was not ready to give up, and neither it seemed, was Peggy.

< _Let's go back down the path again. Perhaps we missed something on the way back,_ > she stated to him in Morse code.

Steve silently nodded, and they did so again, but slower. However, at the intersection where they had last seen the stranger take a left, Peggy paused. There was a slight breeze floating by where there had been none before. There was also the sounds of an incoming train the next tunnel parallel to this one, over.

He could only surmise that the last two times they had traversed this route was only because no trains had passed by near this part of the intersection. It was only luck that they now heard just how close they were to the active train tracks.

Steve saw Peggy turn towards the perpendicular tunnel that would bring them to the active tunnel. It was highly unlikely, but at the point, Steve was more willing to believe that perhaps the stranger had gone towards the active line. If the HYDRA operative at Limehouse was anything to say about wiliness and agility, he would put it past that the strange man who had emerged from the SOE exit was similar.

Yet, that begged the question of: who or how did the SOE not discover a HYDRA agent in their midst? Especially one who carried the faint odor of fuel and sulfur?

Before Peggy could take a step forward, the sounds of a train speeding by filled the air – its faint echoes bouncing all around the intersection of tunnels. However, with that noise came a rather overwhelming smell of the noxious mixture.

Steve looked at Peggy in alarm – both of them had smelled it.

Even before the train had fully passed, Peggy was already hurrying towards it. Steve was hot on her heels and shortly overtook her. He got to the end of the perpendicular tunnel and emerged just as the train finished passing. He didn't step out though, not knowing which active train line he was on, and therefore, the frequency of the trains.

There was, however, a rather potent smell of the mixture, and as Peggy stopped next to him, she began to pan her flashlight all around them. “This is the Piccadilly line,” she murmured, as both of their eyes strayed up with the flashlight.

Steve felt his stomach turn to ice as the flashlight stopped at the particular area on the ceiling of the tunnel. It was difficult to tell, but Steve thought he saw two glass bottles attached with a line between them. That line led to several sticks of dynamite that looked to be stuffed in another glass bottle.

Worse yet, it looked like the apparatus repeated itself and ran up and down the tunnel as far as the flashlight's light could reach.

“Dear—” Peggy began, horror encompassing her tone.

Steve never got to hear her finish her exclamation though, as the next thing he felt was blinding pain to the back of his head. Stars exploded in his eyes as he pitched forward. Then, there was nothing.

* * *

_Nightfall..._

Michael did not emerge from the house until nightfall.

Bucky had left the cafe well before that to not arouse suspicion from the lookout. He had taken up another position that gave him a view of the rooftop lookouts, while avoiding the cafe lookout. When Michael left, Bucky had discreetly followed him all the way back to SOE Headquarters.

It was just past the usual time when people would be considering going to bed, when Bucky returned to the rooftop of the SSR Headquarters. The long coat and fedora that he had worn had been returned to the satchel. He had walked into headquarters in his uniform, and had headed to the barracks to find fresher clothing.

The hot shower that he had taken had been welcomed, as had the fresher clothing. He had discovered that Steve was not present, and neither was Peggy. Considering that Philips had granted all of them some leave time, he didn't worry about the two. They were most likely somewhere private. The thought of Steve finally going forward with Peggy brought a brief smile to Bucky's lips, breaking through the gloom and worry that enveloped him.

At the moment though, Bucky emerged onto the rooftop as another bone-numbing, blustery wind swept by. It was cold, and though his intention was not to remain up here for long, he still had to switch out the tape and listen to what had been recorded.

Briskly walking across to the disused chimney, Bucky stopped short as he turned the corner. David was already there, crouched in front of the device. Worse yet, the young man had a headphone set over his ears.

He didn't even need to cough or clear his throat to get David's attention. Just his appearance was enough for David to catch it out of the corner of his eyes. Bucky watched him slowly widen his eyes while slipping the headphones off of his ears.

“You hypocrite!”

Bucky easily dodged the wild punch thrown by David. Stepping to the side, he grabbed the young man's wrist and unbalanced him even further. Twisting David's arm back, and catching his other flailing arm, Bucky pinned him to the spot, still remaining somewhat upright.

Though David yelped in pain from the pressure that Bucky had put while continuing to twist David's arm, the young man continued to say, “You're a hypocrite! How could you—”

“I should be accusing you of the same,” he stated, letting some of his anger at what David had done, seep through. “You broke your promise to me, even after I warned you to never listen to the tapes.”

He felt David continue to struggle, and let the young engineer go. David stumbled forward a few steps, but immediately whirled around. Bucky saw him rub his shoulder and arm that had been twisted. However, the young man did not attempt to attack again.

Bucky coolly stared at David, seeing the absolute hurt, anger, and resentment in those pale eyes of his. “You—” David began again, but it seemed that standing face-to-face was causing him enough grief that he couldn't finish his accusation. Nor did David try to run away to not face the inevitable, as Bucky had almost expected him to do.

Taking a chance, Bucky turned and approached the recorder. It seemed that David had already swapped out the tapes, and had just been listening to what had been recorded through another machine. Bucky picked up the machine and headphone, and turned to face David.

“None of that is meant for your ears,” he stated to the young man. “You should forget what you heard—”

“Forget?!” David exploded, but did not move from where he was standing. “How the hell am I supposed to forget listening to _that_... to you and... How the hell am I supposed to go back to how things were, knowing that you – of all persons – knowingly _lied_ to me.”

Inwardly, Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. David had not listened to the actual conversations that had been recorded between Michael and whomever had been in that building. The only things that David had heard were the sounds of sex between Michael and himself.

“I never lied to you,” he stated. “You just made your own assumptions and placed it on me. I never confirmed or denied—”

“Horseshite!” David swore more in anguish than in anger.

He knew then that he had struck a nerve – that his statement about what David had done in all the times since he had learned about David's preferences, was true. “I told you long ago,” Bucky began, tone a little less harsh, “that 'what you want, is something I cannot give'.”

“Because you l-love—” David began, looking more and more despairing. Bucky saw his eyes stray towards the machine with the tape. “Because I never stood a candle's chance to—”

“The dead never spoke, David,” he pointed out, seeing the young engineer flinch at the usage of his name. “Not until finding them as prisoners-of-war brought them back to life.”

Bucky held up the machine for a brief moment, saying, “This what I do to people. To women... and to men.”

It was the closest he dared to get to reveal his assignment from Philips. And though in a sense, it was true, he felt oddly relieved to have stated that out loud. Everything he had done from flirting with the women in the SSR, to engaging in a sexual relationship with Michael, had been done because it had all been to protect Steve... and Peggy.

“I...” David began, shoulders sagging as Bucky saw hesitation and hurt flit across his face. “I... you... “

Bucky watched him turn and run, slamming the rooftop door close in his wake. He let out an audible sigh, but did not chase after the young man. It was futile to do so anyways – their friendship, their relationship had been irreparably broken. He could reasonably assume that work would continue, but any closeness, friendliness, or otherwise was destroyed.

He was always destroying things – good or bad.

Instead, Bucky made his way to his usual spot on the rooftop and placed the machine down. Draping the headphones over his ears, he didn't press the button to play the recording just yet. He took out a cigarette from the carton and lit it up. Letting the smell of smoke fill him, Bucky let the cigarette roll around the ledge for a few moments.

Reaching over, he then pressed the button to begin listening.

Listening to himself moaning in pleasure was slightly disconcerting, as he still had vivid memories of what was happening as the recording was playing. Pressing another button, there was some squeal in the tape before it sped forward. After a few seconds, Bucky pressed the button to play it again, but it seemed that David had only listened to the beginning parts of the recording. He was still listening to the sounds of himself and Michael having sex.

Just as Bucky was about to press the button to speed up and go through the recording at a faster pace, the sound of the rooftop door slamming again caught his attention. He pressed another button to stop the tape as he saw Emily approach.

There was clear anger on her face, but no tears or signs of heavy breathing upon her. Not a split second after she stopped before him, Bucky felt the stinging pain of her palm across his left cheek. She didn't move away from where she was standing though – or stomp back downstairs.

“I deserved that,” he stated a few moments later as she stuffed her hands back into her pockets.

“You do,” she agreed, “but only because what you're doing is dangerous, Bucky. David was... and still is too blinded to see what you're doing is dangerous. He loves you too much, and he many not ever see that you didn't... you never lied to him.”

Bucky remained silent for a few long moments. Of the two, he always underestimated how astute Emily was. Part of it was because she was consistently overshadowed by the brilliancy of David and his gadgets. The other part was due in part to her extensive training by Peggy, and her own tendency to keep to herself whenever observing.

“I can't ever love him the way he wants me to love him, Emily,” he stated.

“I know,” she stated, looking at him with sad eyes. “Every single person you flirted with here was considered a threat – to Steve... and to Peggy.”

Bucky saw a bitter smile quirk up the edges of her lips as brief tears welled up in her eyes before she blinked them away. She slowly reached up with her right hand. Bucky allowed her to cup her hand against his cheek where she had slapped him.

“Your life, Bucky,” she softly stated, “I do hope that one day you'll try to find some happiness for yourself.”

He didn't answer, but as she let go, her other hand came up and hovered over the headphones. Her silent askance of him to allow her to listen to what had caused the entire mess was a choice that Bucky knew he could easily deny. She wouldn't get angry at him for doing such a thing – after all, he _had_ asked David to not listen to the tapes.

But, she was the only closest friend and confidante that David had left. If there was even a sliver of a chance of allowing David to heal and fully move on, then he would take it. Bucky removed the headphones and handed it over to Emily.

“Are you sure?” he asked as soon as she secured the headphones and waited for him to press the button.

“Yes,” she stated in affirmation.

Bucky pressed the button and watched Emily carefully. There was absolutely no reaction from her as she listened to what had happened last night. He would have thought that she would have at least look a little embarrassed or flustered. After a minute though, she removed the headphones and Bucky stopped the tape.

“I inadvertently listened to my brother having sex with two girls before,” Emily admitted, returning the headphones. “It was... enlightening... so to speak.”

Bucky kept his mouth shut, but couldn't help the raised eyebrow in surprise. However, the young code-breaker didn't elaborate any further with her accidental eavesdropping tail, or expand on the reason why she wanted to listen.

“Just be careful, Bucky,” she stated. “Please, for all of our sake, be careful with... this.”

She didn't need to gesture at the tape for Bucky to know that she had all but guessed what exactly he was doing and why. He didn't confirm or deny it though, and silently watched as she turned around and returned indoors. He trusted her to know that she would never breathe a word to anyone else, not even David – not unless she was ordered by Philips.

Placing the headphones back on, Bucky pressed the button to speed up the recording. It took a few tries to get to the point where he was not listening to last night's activities, or to the blustery winds of London. Nevertheless, when he did get to the point in the recording, it all started with a patterned knock on the door:

“Who is it?” the voice behind the door asked in an accented English.

Bucky frowned; the voice clearly belonged to Shostakov's aide – the first aide, Lebedev, at the first meeting with Shostakov. He also could have sworn that the voice sounded similar to the aide named Lukin from the second meeting.

“< _It's Michael._ >” Michael spoke in chillingly perfect Russian. “< _I have returned from the region, and have information about the HYDRA super weapon._ >”

* * *

It wasn't so much the cold that woke Steve up, but rather the soft clink of chains that allowed him to snap up and regain his senses. It was slightly futile though, as he blinked and saw only darkness. Not only was he blindfolded, but he was also gagged.

He heard the muffled noise of what sounded like Peggy calling out his name, but did not feel her shift beside or behind him. She was near though – but seemed to be in a similar situation as he was. Judging by the noise he was hearing, she didn't sound injured.

Steve tried to make a noise to let Peggy know that he was all right as he tested the bonds of the chain wrapped several times around him. What bound him was inexplicably strong – enough that no amount of straining could budge the chains. He couldn't move an inch from where he had been settled on the cold, damp ground; curled up and tied like a hog.

He felt another chill go through him: the last time he had been bound with these types of chains was when he and Bucky had been captured by HYDRA at Estonia.

~*~*~*~


	14. The Long Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 4, Episode 5.

**Chapter 14: The Long Night**

_December 29 th, 1944, SSR Headquarters rooftop..._

“< _It's Michael. I have returned from the region, and have information about the HYDRA super weapon._ >”

Despite the bone-numbing cold on the rooftop, Bucky felt a further chill crawl down his spine as he listened to Michael speak perfectly in Russian. The regional large-city accent, the intonation, and even the syntax used was that of a native speaker.

He heard the door open and footsteps shuffle in, before hearing the door close. No pleasantries were exchanged as he heard what sounded like a coat being shed. A few moments later, two pairs of footsteps clicked down the hall and into a room – or so he assumed.

“< _Report._ >”

The voice was unmistakably Shostakov. Bucky felt himself curling his hands into fists before forcing himself to open his hands. What he had heard in the last few minutes was damning enough to convict Michael of treason, but Bucky couldn't bring himself to stop the recording.

Before Michael began to speak though, Bucky wasn't sure what exactly he was hearing, as he heard the sounds of shuffling, followed by a faint humming noise. It didn't sound as if it were interfering too much with the microdot though. It was a little strange, but he did remember David saying that because of the boosted range, the sensitivity for the microphone was also enhanced.

“< _I was permitted to go with Captain America and the Howling Commandos for their mission to destroy the facility. The facility contained two levels. The first level were scientists, those working on several different formulas. The second level was heavily secured and guarded. Personnel were limited to a select few scientists who most likely had permission from either the chief scientist, or the leader of HYDRA to enter._ > Michael stated.

“< _This second level contained the experiments that HYDRA was performing on people. Super-soldier experiments. There were five bodies in the area we searched. All were dead before we got there, but it looked as if they had or were in the midst of being injected with variations of a super-soldier serum._ >” Michael continued.

“< _Dead by natural causes or shot to death?_ >” Shostakov asked.

“< _Unknown, but there were no immediate signs of bullet wounds. We didn't linger, and I was not able to examine the bodies any further._ >” Michael answered.

“< _Samples?_ >” Shostakov continued to ask, though it sounded as if it were a demand.

“< _Not acquired._ >”

Bucky heard some more shuffling noise before the background humming noise seemed to fade a little. Footsteps seemed to step up close to Michael, before there was the clear angry breathing being picked up by the microdot. Those footsteps retreated; it sounded like Shostakov was pacing around the room.

“< _Why?_ >”

Michael was strangely silent for a few moments. His responsiveness to the report seemed so quick and compliant that Bucky thought the SOE agent would have simply stated the obvious to Shostakov and Shostakov's aide: the Commandos had been ambushed.

“< _Focus, Michael._ >” came the sudden, strangely kind tone from Shostakov's aide. The hum had also started back up, sounding just a little louder than a mere background noise. “< _Tell us why you were not able to retrieve samples._ >”

“< _We were ambushed._ >” Michael finally stated. “< _I saw Captain America and the Howling Commandos fight and defeat two super-soldiers, along with a horde of HYDRA soldiers. The scientist behind HYDRA's super-soldiers came forward in a brief lull and gave us ten seconds to evacuate the building. He blew it up. Dr. Armin Zola is is name, or so I was told by Captain America himself._ >”

Silence reigned across the recording. The hum also died as soon as Michael was done with his debrief. After a few minutes, Bucky heard some shuffling before something slightly heavy was dragged across the floor and stopped near Michael. He heard Michael shift, and could only presume that perhaps the SOE agent was now sitting.

“< _Report on the details, including all interactions, reactions, and words said with personnel. Start from the briefing you were given at SSR Headquarters, until your joining of the Howling Commandos' mission, Michael._ >” Shostakov ordered.

“< _The briefing was held in the main area of the SSR Headquarters, in full view—_ >”

Bucky stopped the recording and tore the headphones off. He remained where he was though, staring at the machine and the tape inside of it. There was no more need for him to listen to what was reported. He didn't want to anyways.

His chest hurt, and damn himself, he couldn't attempt to ease the pain. It was a knot in his heart that kept on twisting as he stared at the machine. It didn't matter now if his own heartache was tearing at him – he knew that he had done this to himself. That he cared more than he should've for Michael; that he _knew_ it would most likely be a futile effort to untangle Michael from Shostakov's aide—no, Shostakov himself.

It didn't matter how Bucky looked at it – he was _going_ to hurt Peggy and Steve.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to throw away the machine – tape and all. This was the evidence that Philips needed, and—

Bucky ground his teeth in frustration as his sense of duty overrode everything else. Crushing the remnants of the cigarette, he took the machine with him, and returned indoors. Making his way down to the ground floor, he silently indicated to the telephone operator on duty to be let in.

It was quiet inside headquarters. Most of the personnel were gone, save only a scant few working the night shift. With the breaking of enemy lines, it seemed that Allied forces pushing ever eastwards and into Germany was allowing the SSR a small break in operations. Bucky knew that soon though, activity would ramp up again as word spread about Zola.

Bucky made his way down to the engineering lab, needing the tools there to cut up the tape into the appropriate section. It was also where the trash bins used to burn things were – and he _needed_ to burn the rest of the tape.

Unsurprisingly, David was still at his station, with Emily sitting next to him. The young man did turn to see who had come down the stairs. Just a quickly though, Bucky saw him look away and return to whatever he had been doing.

Bucky ignored the action, just as he also ignored Emily's reaction. He went over to the far side of the laboratory and set the machine down. Rolling back the tape to what he hoped was the right section, he briefly pressed the button to play it again, and heard the winds of London over the recording.

Stopping the recording just as the patterned knock on the door began, he rolled the tape back a few inches. However, just as he slipped the headphones off, he heard footsteps approach from behind him.

Turning slightly Bucky was a little surprised to see Lorraine, of all people approaching. She held a pair of working gloves in her hands. “Best use these, if you want to preserve a recording,” she stated without preamble, extending the gloves towards him.

He gave her a slightly skeptical look. Whenever they spoke, it had never been with the tone of practicality, or advice of sorts. There hadn't even been much of a friendly tone between them as of late – all barbs and insults. Before that, it had always been flirty and innuendo-laced. This practical tone of hers was a little disconcerting.

“Since when did you ever give advice?” Bucky questioned rather bluntly after a few moments.

He did not take the gloves. He didn't disturb the tape that he had taken out of the machine, but did pick up the scissors to cut it in between the two reels.

Lorraine's advice was sound, as he knew fingerprints on the tape could potentially ruin parts of the recording, but he had been careful to handle the tape on the sides. It didn't matter if got his prints all over the beginning portion of the tape – that part was going to be burned.

Snapping the tape into two, he took the thicker one of the two, and began stripping it from the reel. It seemed Lorraine did not care about the fact that he ignored the offer, and instead, placed the gloves on the table. Philips' secretary-spy did not leave though, as Bucky had expected her to do. Instead, she sat back, leaning against the table and watched him work.

“What do you want?” he asked after a few moments. It had not escaped his notice that both Emily and David had briefly glanced in his direction, curious as to why Lorraine was down here. Of David, Bucky could see tension lining the young man's shoulders, back still facing him.

“Your life... it's a lonely existence.”

For just a moment, Bucky hesitated before continuing to strip the tape from the reel. It sounded as if Philips' secretary-spy was almost trying to be _friendly_. Not a flirty-friendly kind of way either – more sympathetic than anything else.

“I know how that feels,” Lorraine stated a few moments later.

The sarcastic answer was on the tip of his tongue, but didn't spit it out. Instead, he continued to unravel the tape into the trash can. He could feel Lorraine's eyes on him, but she didn't say a word – he continued working.

As Bucky dropped the last of the tape into the trash can, he suddenly saw movement out of the corner of his eyes. Lorraine had lit up a cigarette and was puffing on it before dropping the match directly into the trash can. The tape and everything still flammable immediately lit up. It didn't take long for the tape to burn to ashes either.

“Philips wants to talk to you,” Lorraine murmured softly enough that he almost didn't hear it, as she stood up. “He's in his office.”

Before Bucky could react to those words, she walked away and back up the stairs. He glanced back down at the now-ashes trash bin, frowning. He was sure that Lorraine didn't know about him being Philips' assassin, but those words she spoke said otherwise.

As much as he wanted to puzzle that out, he pushed it to the side. It was clear to him that Philips had used Lorraine to directly pass on the message, instead of the usual methods. It also meant that he had no choice but to turn the tape in as evidence. David and Emily both knew about the tape, and Lorraine had seen him strip it.

Attaching the free end of the tape to the formerly full reel with adhesive tape, Bucky wrapped up his work, and returned all materials back to where they had been. As for the machine that he had used to listen to the tape, he placed it to the side – there was a possibility, albeit slim, that he would need it again.

The recorded evidence was a metaphorical grenade that had enough inside of it to bring Michael's world crashing down upon him – and convict Shostakov and Shostakov's aide as enemy spies. Bucky carried it like so as he walked past David and Emily without a glance or acknowledgment in their direction.

Upstairs, he made his way to Philips' office and knocked on the door. With a muffled 'enter', Bucky entered the office and closed the door behind him. “Sir,” he stated, managing to keep his surprise at the fact that Lorraine was also in the office, sitting at one of the two chairs facing Philips' desk.

“Have a seat, Sergeant,” Philips ordered.

Bucky took the empty seat without protest and waited for his commander to speak. While he was going to present the evidence, it seemed that Philips had more pressing that needed to be addressed. He couldn't help but wonder why Lorraine was present – even though it seemed quite evident now that she definitely knew what he did for Philips.

“She knows what you do, Barnes,” Philips stated without preamble. “I told her after she discovered and reported a breach in security for our operations. A breach that _you_ did not report.”

Bucky blinked once, puzzled. “What breach?” he asked. Any other further denial or attempt to deflect would only look badly on him. He knew that Philips was not one to give another chance – especially to him.

“The courier method,” Philips stated. “How the hell did Michael Carter know how exactly those messages are written, delivered, and encoded? And why the hell did he direct you to the Savoy? To the rooms that we used during the second meeting, no less?”

He didn't answer his commander immediately. Instead, Bucky glanced over at Lorraine, before asking, “How extensive of a file do you have on Michael Carter?”

“The usual details that go into a file for any family members of a SSR personnel – estranged or otherwise,” Lorraine answered. “Date of birth, place of birth, education, work history, friends and close contacts. Relationship to the SSR personnel, including frequency of contact, any correspondence of note.”

“Did you ever find out how or why Michael was recruited into the SOE?” Bucky asked.

“Lone survivor of his platoon at Dunkirk,” Lorraine answered. “He was honorably discharged. Spent less than a month at home, but in that time, managed to get the papers to publish a rebuttal piece on what happened at Dunkirk. It caused quite a stir. Of course, it was all under a pseudonym.”

“That piece and the subsequent investigation into who exactly wrote that piece was how he got recruited into the SOE, Barnes,” Philips stated. “What's your point?”

“Did you ever find out how he managed to get that piece published?” he asked.

The fact that Lorraine had found just how Michael got recruited into the SOE through other, independent means was somewhat of a comfort to Bucky. It meant that Michael had not lied to him, when he had been told by Michael as to how he got recruited.

“No,” Lorraine stated. “The British press is almost as 'free' as those in the States. The papers are always eager for different news other than the propaganda that is published. It's clever of him to get it through censors.”

“Because he read them,” Bucky stated. “He read the room, those editors, publishers – every single one of them. He read them like a book, and he found which ones were more likely to publish his piece than others. It's the same kind of... ability – if you want to call it that – that both he and Peggy have. They're both good a reading people – him more so than her. Peggy stated that he had the ability to 'read the room' in less than five minutes, and report more than just surface details of a particular person in the room. If asked.”

Bucky placed the tape on Philips' desk, and folded his hands together. “It's what makes him dangerous, sir. He read me with one glance. Not only did he figure out what I was doing with the mission you gave me, he figured out the method in which _we_ established to get those messages to me.”

He paused for a moment before saying, “Just this morning, he asked _when_ I was going to report him as cleared and not a threat to you, or the SSR. He's known about what I'm doing for nearly two months, sir. He directed me to the Savoy under the guise of copying Lorraine's handwriting, a quote from a Sherlock Holmes book, and even telling the concierge at the front desk to expect me. The only difference was the weight of the paper the note was written on.”

“And you went,” Philips stated.

“Considering where else you've sent me before, I went,” Bucky stated, unable to hold back the slightly challenging tone. “I didn't report it because I didn't know if it was all due to my fault, or the fact that he is a highly trained and experienced spy.”

“And yet, he what... went along with it?” his commander questioned, looking skeptical.

“I'd like to say that we both went into it with eyes wide open, but I now know otherwise,” Bucky answered. He gestured to the tape on his commander's desk with a chin saying. “He's working for the Soviets, sir. All evidence is on that tape. He's talking to Shostakov, and Shostakov's aide, Lebedev... I think.”

“The Soviets,” Philips bluntly stated. “Just the Soviets?”

“I didn't listen to all of the tape yet, sir,” Bucky admitted.

“It's all in Russian?” his commander continued to question, taking the tape and switching it out of the machine in the room. The other tape that had been in the machine – most likely one of the recordings from the second meeting with Shostakov, was placed to the side.

“Yes, sir,” he answered.

“Michael Carter showed little to no aptitude for Russian, sir,” Lorraine spoke up. “Even the exam administered by MI6 showed him with a high aptitude for French and German. It's what the SOE trained him on. It's the same with his sister. Linguistic tests showed that she had been struggling with Russian until she was deployed in the Estonia mission. Assessments post-Estonia showed that she picked up the language fairly quickly as a necessity.”

“How long has our Agent Carter been learning the language before Estonia?” Philips asked.

“For a little over two years,” Lorraine stated.

Silence fell in the office. Bucky could reasonably assume what his commander was thinking about: the fact that Michael had been a captive of HYDRA for over two years. The fact that those captives had all stated that they had been shuttled around in those years didn't sit well with any of them. Coupled with the fact that the Limehouse incident had been instigated by one of the other soldiers they had found in a nearby HYDRA facility made everything more muddy.

Just what exactly had the SSR had found at that cluster of HYDRA facilities?

“Sir—” Bucky began.

“How did you manage to record him, Barnes?” Philips asked, folding his hands together, as he closed the machine, but did not attempt to play the recording yet.

“Modified microphone with a one-way transmitter range into a recording machine. Derived from what we used at the Savoy during that second meeting, sir,” he stated. “I asked David Brewster to do the modifications, without telling him what it was for.”

“A bug,” Lorraine stated, sounding and looking impressed.

Bucky ignored her. “Michael met with Shostakov and the aide in what I could only presume to be a safe house of sorts. I can point to where it is on a map; I was following him today.”

“You said you met with him this morning,” Philips stated. “How did he not know that you were following him?”

“He stated that he had work. Told him I had other plans for the day, and that it was not a big deal if we couldn't go run up bar tabs around London,” Bucky answered, wrapping the lie in partial truth. “Simple as that.”

“Simple as that,” Philips repeated, frowning slightly but didn't say another word.

Bucky knew that he could protest and defend his words, but at this juncture, it was a little stupid for him to do so. He knew that his commander was only ensuring that what was on tape was legitimate, and not some cooked up crock.

“Lorraine, a map of London, if you will. And three cups of coffee. We're going to be here for a while,” Philips stated after a few moments of silence.

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

_Somewhere in London, underground..._

Despite Steve's attempts to roll around and cause as much noise as possible, the chains that bound him and to the ground held him taut. It seemed that Peggy's chains were a little looser, but not by much. She had managed to roll enough towards him that they were now lying almost back-to-back.

The chill, cold, and dampness of the place they were in though, was not alleviated. Steve could occasionally feel Peggy shivering whenever she involuntarily jerked ever so slightly. It was both the clinking of her chains on the damp ground, and the brush of her fingers against his hands that alerted him to her condition.

< _Did you tell anyone else approximately where we were going?_ > he tapped out in Morse code to her.

< _No,_ > she answered. < _I presume that you didn't tell Bucky either?_ >

< _Couldn't find him in the pub after I returned,_ > he said. < _He wasn't in the barracks either._ >

She didn't tap out anything after that, but Steve continued to feel the occasional brush of her fingers against his own. While both of them had dressed as warmly as possible against the cold, their stillness, lying in damp conditions, and the fact that it felt like parts of their clothes had been dragged through at least some sewage until they had been thrown here was not good.

Hypothermia was already setting in, given the occasional bout of shivers coming from both of them. Steve had experienced the effects of severe hypothermia before – not just in the battlefield, but also when he had been growing up.

The heat in the apartment he had shared with his mother before she had died sometimes didn't have the heat working in the winter. He remembered being wrapped in two layers of blankets, while his mother took only one for the night. Even with the blankets, and wrapping his mother in them when he couldn't stand to see her shiver throughout the night, it was still cold.

At the moment, he couldn't get himself free so he could wrap himself around Peggy to keep her warm, much less escape. He didn't know how long they had been knocked out, but since he had woken up, he had heard nothing except for the noise they produced when shifting, or the occasional drip of water somewhere.

< _We'll get through this,_ > he tapped out to her, trying to reassure her.

< _We will,_ > she agreed. < _HYDRA won't get away with what they've tried to do. Limehouse was only a distraction... a diversion._ >

< _Care to explain the theory?_ > he asked.

It wasn't that he didn't understand, but that he knew that they both had to try to keep their minds off the fact that they were both slowly freezing to death. The constant tapping of Morse code was the only thing Steve could think of, to distract both of them.

< _We found that soldier in another facility, but in the same region..._ > Peggy began.

* * *

_Morning, December 30 th, 1944, SSR Headquarters..._

Bucky was tired, but it was only because he had been speaking almost non-stop throughout the night. Philips made him translate every single word said by Shostakov, Shostakov's aide, and Michael from the recording.

What Bucky had initially listened to had only been the tip of the proverbial iceberg. As the recording had continued, and more details had been told to Shostakov by Michael, Philips' expression had become more stone-faced. By the end of it, it was almost as if someone had carved the SSR commander from granite.

Bucky was tired, but he was also both angry and worried. There had been some near-intimate details that Michael had told Shostakov – not just about him, but also about the Commandos, Steve, and Peggy. Details about their habits, actions, and frustrations on the mission and battles they had engaged in. It was almost akin to the psychological reports that he remembered seeing at the HYDRA facility in Estonia.

He followed Lorraine out of Philips' office, not really caring anymore as to who exactly saw him leave the office. After what he had heard – what had happened – he'd rather people knew that he was working as Philips' agent, rather than in the shadows. If the SSR ever managed to clear themselves of this convoluted mess, perhaps it was better that—

“Good morning.”

Bucky looked up to see that Emily had said that greeting, chirping it as she normally did, whenever he saw her in the morning. Standing a little behind her was David, still looking sullen and angry. The engineer didn't look away and merely settled for giving him a cold look.

He ignored it. Bucky hadn't realized that he had been sitting in Philips' office for that long of a time, enough for a shift to have passed. While the SSR was still quiet, he knew that it would soon fill up with personnel and the chatter of new missions being planned.

“Good morning,” Lorraine answered, as she stepped to the side to allow the two through to their stations.

Bucky followed her actions, but didn't answer the greeting. After what happened last night, and now, he was sure that both Emily and David were smart enough to put two-and-two together. That he was Philips' agent, operating in a similar capacity as Lorraine did. Whether the rumors would start from the two was another matter, but he didn't care anymore.

“Your friend, Stark's protege,” Lorraine began, as soon as the two left and were out of earshot.

“David Brewster,” he stated. “And he's no longer my friend.”

“So I've gathered,” she stated. “It felt chilly, icy reception and all. He listened to what was on the part that you burned, didn't he? Things he was never supposed to hear?”

Bucky remained silent, keeping his expression schooled to as neutral as possible. It didn't matter now that Lorraine knew what he did for Philips, or that she possibly knew of the reason why he worked as Philips' assassin. What mattered to him now was that she'd not find out anything else about him.

“What do you want?” he asked after she fell silent and gave him a mirthless smile.

“I'm not hungry,” she stated. “Let's have breakfast.”

It took Bucky a few seconds to realize what the words implied. “No, thank you,” he stated.

“How polite,” she said, the mirthless smile still on her lips. “I bet that all the girls you've rejected were always so disappointed—”

“No. Only you,” he interrupted her. “You're the only one whom I would reject without provocation. Mixing business and pleasure would be so awkward for our working relationship. I hope you understand.”

“Oh I do,” she answered, the familiar sarcasm he was used to hearing nowadays evident in her tone. “As to what else I want... well, certainly not breakfast. And certainly not to be your confidante, Barnes. And I certainly don't want your sympathies on what I do either.”

“Only those who court death would ever give sympathy to a viper like you, Lorraine,” he answered.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” she stated with a thin smile gracing her lips. “What I'm offering is help. We both know what needs to be done to keep everyone here safe. We, and Philips, now know that working individually is not the best use of resources. So, if you need help in any of your assignments, just ask.”

“And you'd expect the same of me?” Bucky questioned, doubtful. “To help you?” He folded his arms across his chest, and did not give her a chance to answer as he continued to say, “Lady, I'm not the one to go around snooping on people's darkest secrets that they _do not_ want others to know about.”

Instead of answering him, she gave him one of her smiles that irritated him greatly, before leaving without another word to him.

* * *

_Somewhere in London, underground..._

< _Steve?_ >

Steve blinked awake, jerking slightly as an uncontrollable bout of shivers over took him. He tried to stop himself from shivering as he felt Peggy's fingers switch from Morse code tapping to brushing across his fingers. She was trying to soothe him, as he fought to control his body's involuntary reaction.

< _Sorry,_ > he apologized as soon as he stopped shivering. < _How are you doing?_ >

< _Thought I managed to get my wrist loose enough, but no,_ > she answered. < _Can't even break my thumb to slip my hand through the binding._ >

< _Don't hurt yourself any further, Peggy, please,_ > he tapped out. < _We've been here long enough. Someone must have noticed that we're missing._ >

< _But will they know where to find us... wherever we are?_ > she asked.

Steve was silent on that – he didn't have any answer. Between what had happened with their exit at the party, until now, he knew that people could reasonably assume that the two of them were spending time together. Not captured and hogtied with unbreakable chains somewhere underground, and freezing to death.

< _I'm sorry about this, Peggy,_ > he apologized. < _I should have at least made an effort to find Bucky and tell him—_ >

< _Don't, Steve,_ > she interrupted, linking their forefingers together for a brief moment. < _It's all right. It's not your fault. I think I know where Bucky may have gone after you walked me home. He may have spent the night sleeping over at my brother's apartment._ >

< _But that doesn't solve the fact that neither of them know where we are._ > Steve mused. He was glad that his best friend and Peggy's brother were getting along so well. It felt like the four of them were becoming closer, more tight-knit, and he hoped that he would be able to call Peggy family, soon.

< _They probably got an early start to their chaos, and are having fun running around the city,_ > he continued.

< _I suppose,_ > Peggy tapped in return, though Steve thought her taps were slightly hesitant. < _I did make a breakfast appointment with Michael on the 31_ _st_ _. End of the year tradition we used to have with our parents._ >

Steve brightened ever so slightly, though that was dampened as he felt Peggy begin to shiver. He tried to grasp as many of her fingers as possible, to give her hope and what little warmth could pass through their fingers.

< _Then we'll have to hold on. We fight as hard as we can to survive this cold. If you don't show up, Michael and Bucky be our only hope—_ >

Steve immediately stopped tapping as footsteps echoed throughout the area. He couldn't pinpoint the origin of the footsteps though, as the noise was bouncing all over the place. But, there were two distinct gaits. As the two pairs came closer, both he and Peggy began to make as much noise as they could.

The footsteps got loud enough that Steve was sure that the two people had seen and heard them. Abruptly, they stopped, and Steve could hear two distinct people breathing above them. Yet, even with the noise and attempts to move, he couldn't hear or feel the two people try to free them.

Instead, Steve thought he heard the oddest of a noise – a pitched humming-like noise that seemed to sear across his ears. It seemed to tickle his teeth and rub across his bones in a way that didn't _feel_ right.

“Focus,” Steve heard an accented voice murmur over the hum. “Listen to the sound of my voice, Agent Carter and Captain Rogers. Focus...”

* * *

_Evening, SSR Headquarters..._

Bucky had stayed at headquarters for the entire day. He had not been restricted or under orders to remain, but Philips had informed him that someone else was going to be sent to the presumed safe house to observe it. He could only assume that it was Lorraine who had been sent, since after rejecting her offer for casual sex that morning, he hadn't seen her all day.

That assumption had been reinforced by the fact that Emily had brought over the pages of short-hand transcripts that Lorraine had taken of the recording. Philips had left orders within the folder to write it all up.

As for his commander, he hadn't seen Philips all day, even sitting in the main area of headquarters, writing up the transcripts and reports. He knew that Philips was still in his office though. One of the code-breakers had brought lunch into Philips' office before scurrying back out.

 _Thunk_.

Bucky looked up from reading the last of what he had transcribed from Lorraine's notes. He had heard footsteps approaching, but had assumed that it was just another person passing by his station and on to others. He did not expect David to have approached him, nor be the one to set a fresh tape down on the desk.

“You'll need to replace the tape soon, sir,” David stated in a fairly cold tone.

“Understood,” Bucky simply answered, and got up, taking both the tape and finished report with him.

He stepped away without another word and headed towards Philips' office. While he had half-expected David to say something else, it seemed that this was the new equilibrium in their relationship – utter coldness and plain professionalism. A part of him was sad that it had come to this, but the other part of him stubbornly refused to apologize for his actions; insisting that he had warned David, and that David had not listened and broken his promise.

Knocking on Philips' door, he heard the muffled 'enter' and opened it. It seemed his commander was on the phone with important people, judging by the covering of the mouthpiece, and a lot of folders opened and strewn about his desk.

“The full transcript, sir,” Bucky stated, handing over the report.

“That fresh?” Philips asked, accepting the report, before indicating to the tape in Bucky's hand.

“Need to switch it out, sir,” he answered. “I'll have it cleaned up and on your desk in a half-hour.”

“Good man. Carry on, Barnes,” Philips stated, dismissing him.

Bucky left, closing the door after him. He made his way up and out of the underground bunker. On the rooftop, it was still bitterly cold, but not as windy as it had been. It was clear skies at the moment, though a fresh, light coating of snow had fallen earlier. It made it slightly slippery to walk across the rooftop.

He kept his balance though, as he made his way to the disused chimney. Crouching, he brushed the layer of snow off and popped the casing open. Carefully taking out the recorded tape, he wrapped it up in cloth and put that into a coat pocket. Taking the fresh tape out, he placed it into the machine—

“It's useless to do that, Bucky.”

Bucky whirled up and around, but immediately half-fell into a defensive position. It was a little futile though. He was completely unarmed, and Michael... Somehow, Michael had managed to get up here without anyone seeing him. The SOE agent had hidden himself in the shadows of the rooftop's structures for God only knew how long.

But the futility of just how Michael had not been seen by any other SSR personnel was not Bucky's main concern. It was the fact that Michael was slowly walking towards him, with a pistol pointed steadily at his heart.

“Michael,” Bucky greeted, without a quaver or hint of fear in his tone.

~*~*~*~


	15. The Face of the Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 4, Episode 17.

**Chapter 15: The Face of the Enemy**

“Your clever device,” Michael began. The SOE agent stopped just a few feet shy of a lunging reach, but close enough that Bucky knew that he could not dodge the bullet.

With the thin moonlight illuminating the area all around them, Bucky saw him throw something tiny onto the ground between them, saying, “It won't work anymore. Shostakov's aide, whatever the hell his name is, broke it.”

Before Bucky could ask how or why the microdot had been broken, Michael did the most unexpected thing. The SOE agent placed the pistol on the ground and slid it towards him. Bucky instinctively stopped the gun with his foot, but did not bend down to pick it up just yet.

“Pick it up,” Michael ordered.

Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly. He could not see anything else on Michael that indicated a threat. Yet, he didn't put aside the fact that perhaps there was some other pistol the SOE agent could immediately withdraw.

Slowly, he crouched down and picked up the pistol. He didn't hold it tightly in his hand, but he also did not hold it loosely. As he stood back up and slowly pointed it at Michael, he didn't see him withdraw another weapon.

“If you think me a traitor to the Crown, shoot me,” Michael bluntly stated, spreading his arms wide to show that he was not going to resist.

Startled by the unexpected statement, Bucky's steady aim on Michael wavered for a moment. “Why?” he asked, pushing away his surprise.

“Because that's what you've been ordered to do by your commander,” Michael said. “It's why he sent you to vet me. It's why you collected evidence on your clever device. I'm sure you've already told or let Philips hear what was recorded.”

Michael lowered his arms, and took a step forward, but did not do anything else to indicate that he was going to withdraw a weapon. “Shoot me dead right now, if you think I am a traitor, a threat to King and country, because if you don't—”

“You'll do what?” Bucky demanded, frowning.

He did not lower the gun as Michael closed the distance between them. Something was wrong. His gut feeling was telling him that there was more to what he had heard and translated to Philips on the first recording.

His eyes were briefly drawn to Michael's left hand that had come up and clamp over his own right hand. Even before that happened, Bucky had immediately removed his finger from the trigger.

Bucky jammed his finger in between the trigger and guard. It was to prevent Michael from forcing him to pull the trigger like he had done to Karl in that Ardennes village.

Michael continued to remain silent. Even though Bucky's instinct was to lash out and subdue him – to take Michael prisoner and make him stand trial – he held himself still. He saw and felt Michael bring up his hand that held the gun and place the barrel directly over the agent's own heart. Yet, Bucky continued to keep a tight grip on the gun, with his finger firmly held between the trigger and guard.

“Philips thinks of you as a blunt instrument, an assassin he is cultivating to be as remorseless as possible,” he heard Michael murmur. The words stated were reminiscence of the words that the agent had stated in the room at the Savoy so long ago.

“I thought he succeeded when you killed that HYDRA super-soldier in the facility,” Michael continued to say, staring at their hands, rather than directly at him.

 _Philips almost did_.

It was what Bucky wanted to say, but he didn't say it. “I'm not going to shoot you, Michael. Why are you trying to take the coward's way out? What happened to your integrity as a soldier? That dedication to see things through to the end that you were telling me about?” he demanded.

This time, Michael flinched as if he had been struck, and glance down. “I can't face Peggy, Bucky. I don't want to break her heart. I don't want her to find out—”

“By making _me_ shoot you?” Bucky asked, angry. “What the fucking hell—how the fucking hell do you think _I_ would feel about it?! That I would have to live with the fact that _I fucking shot you_ , while your sister and Steve would blissfully accept some other excuse for you being dead or missing?!”

Before Bucky could pull away, disgusted by the rationale, he saw Michael shake his head slightly. “What I do... what I've done was extremely dangerous. I didn't know how I could free myself, or break away. Each time they tried to 'condition' me, I had to force myself to tuck a piece of myself away... to save that part of me that believed what I was doing was worth it.”

Michael paused for a moment. However, as confused as Bucky was, his attempt to withdraw the gun and his hand from Michael's grip was met with strong resistance. The SOE agent kept a firm grip and pulled the barrel more towards him, looking directly at him.

Bucky could read fear and hesitancy in Michael's eyes, but there was also signs of defiance. Yet, it didn't seemed to be aimed solely at him, as the SOE agent continued to say, “At first, it was the memories I had of Peggy that sustained me. Then it was you, when I thought that you genuinely reciprocated affection.”

A bitter chuckle escaped Michael's lips. “But that wasn't real, was it? You just lied convincingly enough, even slept with me to deceive—”

Despite himself, Bucky protested, saying, “I care... Michael, I—”

“As other survivors of the two platoons slowly fell prey to the madness, it became harder and harder to resist the call,” Michael said, shaking his head slightly. “Harder to resist the humming noise that compelled—”

“Wait, what?” Bucky asked. “Hum?” he questioned, thoughts racing back to the odd noise he had heard in the first recording. He had dismissed it as mere background noise from an overly sensitive microphone.

“I don't know what it is,” Michael admitted. There was a despondent look in the SOE agent's eyes as he continued to say, “All I really know is that eventually, those exposed to it will eventually succumb to it. That the survivors you found, that you saved, were all that was left of whatever experiments they had been doing.”

“They?” Bucky asked. “They who? HYDRA?”

“The Soviets, HYDRA, I don't know...” Michael stated. “It's all a jumbled mess in my head. Whatever it Shostakov's aide did, it was strong enough to shatter and break the device you placed on my uniform collar. All it caused was a small jolt of electricity. You saved me.”

“Who gave you orders?” Bucky questioned.

Instead of answering, he saw Michael glance over at the gun still pressed against his chest before looking back at him. “Do you even believe me?”

Bucky remained silent for a few long moments. He wanted to say 'no', but yet, his gut feeling was telling him that there was potentially some truth to Michael's strange but confusing confession.

It was the fact that Michael clearly stated there was a 'hum' that seemed to 'control' him. Bucky knew that if there was even a sliver of truth, he couldn't dismiss what he had heard in the first recording at all as simple turncoat reporting. No, he couldn't even dismiss what he had heard Michael mutter the first time he had spent the night in the agent's apartment.

“Michael,” he began, reaching up with his left hand to gently cup the right side of Michael's face. He knew that while it was incredibly risky for him to do such a thing, there was perhaps, more to the story than what Michael was telling him – and what he had heard in the recording.

“Go to the Waldorf,” he stated. “Go there, rent a room, light a candle at the window, and wait for me. I'll come by later. I don't want to kill you, Michael. I want to help you fix this. If you're there, I know I can trust you. If you're not...”

“You'll hunt me down. Assassinate me like so many of your HYDRA targets?” Michael asked, bitterness in his tone.

Reluctantly, and because Bucky knew just how much he himself would get in trouble for doing something like this, he nodded. “Yeah. It's a promise.”

“All right,” Michael agreed after a few moments, nodding ever so slightly as Bucky felt him let go of his hand and the gun.

Bucky withdrew his hand from Michael's face, and stepped back. He flung the gun far and away from both of them. “Thank you,” he heard Michael say.

There was nothing else he could say to the SOE agent. Bucky turned and closed the machine with the fresh tape inside of it. He wouldn't bring it down – not until he was sure that Michael was telling the truth about the second recording; about everything, really. He slowly walked back to the rooftop door, and did not glance back as he opened it and headed down the stairs.

* * *

_Somewhere in London, underground..._

Peggy stirred, blinking as she rose to consciousness. It was still dark, and she was still bound, blindfolded, and gagged. A bout of violent shivering immediately enveloped her, causing her chains to clang against the ground she was lying on. She could hear Steve shift next to her. Yet, she couldn't remember anything after both she and Steve had met up in the morning, and entered the Tube station—

Between the clanking of her chains, and Steve's movements, another faint pair of footsteps was approaching. Peggy heard the footsteps stop next to them. She was suddenly dragged from where she was by a short distance, before she felt herself being lifted up by a strong pair of hands.

Pain like no other Peggy had ever felt before lanced through her. She couldn't keep the muffled cry from escaping her lips, as she was leaned against a wall. She could hear Steve protesting mightily, though the noise coming from him changed a little with him being dragged out as well.

As much as she wanted to run, she couldn't – she could barely keep her balance with her legs bound, much less continue to stand. Agony wracked her body, the cold had seeped so far into her that she wanted to collapse. It was sheer will to remaining standing where she was that she continued to lean against the wall.

Movement and a grunt of pain, followed by the smacking sound against the wall she was leaning at told her that it was Steve. She heard the person who had stood the two of them up move again, footsteps scuffing slightly against the puddles and ground.

A moment later, Peggy unexpectedly felt the chains binding her arms against her body loosen and fall to the ground. The same noise was heard from Steve's chains. Yet, there seemed to be additional chains that didn't allow her to move her arms much.

Warm hands briefly enveloped her right hand before seemingly transferring to have her hold Steve's hand. Even as deliriously cold, exhausted, and in pain as she was, Peggy tried to convey her confusion through the gag.

There was no answer, except that not a few moments later, the chains around both her legs, and Steve's as well were loosened. Yet, the double-binding was the same – the two of them could only move their legs so much.

Peggy tried to shove the lancing pain wracking her body away. She lifted and tried to test the limits of how far she could move her legs. It was not much – she could most likely manage a hobbling walk. Which seemed to be the intent of the person who was freeing them.

“Come,” was all the person said.

It wasn't much, but the voice was clearly male. Peggy was not given time to even try to think about the short order as she felt the man grasp her left hand, and began to pull.

Stumbling as she tried to get her bearings, the man pulling her was not attempting to be rough or gentle. She felt Steve reach out with his other hand, blindly placing it on her small of her back to try to stabilize her. Peggy tried to squeeze Steve's hand in return, but it was taking all of her concentration and then some to place one foot forward over the other.

Peggy felt so weak, cold, exhausted beyond tired, but they were moving – they were going somewhere. Whatever this kind of rescue it was, it was clear that they were finally escaping. She clung onto that spark of hope, and forced herself to walk, no matter how much her body hurt.

She could hear Steve keep pace next to her, grasping her hand tightly, while keeping her from stumbling as they were blindly led down the echoing halls of wherever they had been. Yet, as the minutes passed, and they kept walking, Peggy began the regain some other feelings other than the numbing pain that gripped her body.

It was not the one-word order that made her become slowly aware of who their rescuer could be. She dared not let go of their rescuer hand, but as the tingling sensation from her fingertips on down began to slowly subside, she thought she felt something familiar about the hand that led her.

The hand that led her had a puckered scar that ran from the tip of the thumb to the palm. She recalled being told that the scar had come from a childhood accident that almost claimed the life of both himself and his friend. The scar was distinct, and Peggy felt it numerous times before in the past – against their clasped hands, stroking against her face whenever he had tenderly held her...

“Fred?” she asked, her voice still muffled against the gag.

It was clear enough though, for their rescuer to pause. “We need to move as quickly as possible, before it's discovered that you've both escaped.”

She had guessed right – her former fiance, Frederic Creighton, was their rescuer.

As confused as Peggy was, it was the clinking of the chains on Steve, and him pulling her slightly forward that made them move again. She didn't question again, nor did Fred say any other word, but Peggy was glad either way that somehow, he had found them.

* * *

_Elsewhere in London..._

Bucky considered it more of a stay in metaphorical execution than anything else, that he was granted a reprieve from translating the second tape. He didn't discount the fact that Philips looked to be tied up in something enormous. His commander had merely gestured for him to set the tape down and waved his hand in dismissal.

He didn't stay at headquarters though, and made sure that more than a few people saw him leave with a small overnight bag. Leave for the Commandos was most definitely not leave for him, but at this very moment, Bucky _wanted_ to have some time alone – without orders hanging over him.

He needed that time to find out what exactly was going on with Michael. Or, as his thoughts made a darker turn – to hunt down and kill Michael, if everything said up there was another silver-tongued lie.

At the present, Bucky was standing across the street, staring at the Waldorf. While slightly on the expensive side, rooms for the night were not as high-priced as the Savoy or One Aldwych. Even with prices fixed because of the war, soldiers normally didn't stay at any of the hotels in the area. But this was an exception that Bucky was willing to make. If the worst should happen—

Bucky shook his head slightly as he roughly brushed the thought away. He had seen the candle in the window – he knew which room Michael was staying in. It was ironic, he thought as he walked across the street and into the hotel without another glance at the doormen, that Michael had been given _that_ particular room.

“Room 616, please,” he stated to the concierge at the front desk. “My colleague told me it had the best view of the courtyard at night.”

He didn't think the concierge would even remember him, much less remember the code words he had spoken to him months ago. One of his earliest missions for Philips had been at this hotel. His target had been given room 615 – the very room that Michael stayed in at the moment.

Bucky didn't know who secretly employed the concierge, but he never asked. He knew that it was better that he'd not know. But it seemed to be a night of surprises, as the man blinked a couple of times before nodding once. Bucky handed over the appropriate amount of money to pay for the room – discounted because of the code words spoken – and received the keys to the specific room in return.

“There are three other residents on the floor, sir,” the man stated. “A husband-wife in room 610, three doors down. A man in room 615, directly across from you, and another man in room 620, two doors up. Which shall I need to evacuate?”

“None at the moment,” Bucky stated, surprising the concierge. “It should be resolved by morning.”

The concierge coughed once, apologizing for it before saying, “Very good, sir. Please enjoy your stay.”

Bucky left and made his way up to the sixth floor. It didn't take him long to reach his assigned room. However, rather than enter it, he turned away from the door and stood in front of room 615. He knocked twice – it was silently opened.

Circumstances were already unusual enough, and Bucky found it even more unusual that Michael hadn't even bothered to check who was at the door before opening it. He knew that the SOE agent was ever cautious and aware of his surroundings, but this... This told Bucky that Michael's thoughts were far and away from his own safety.

Quietly closing the door, Bucky dropped his overnight bag at the entrance, and shed his winter coat, hanging it up in the closet. He followed Michael further into the room, noting just how despondent the agent looked. He didn't miss the fact that Michael immediately headed towards where the bottles of liquor were, and poured two glasses of whisky.

Accepting the glass, Bucky silently sat in the seat opposite of where it seemed Michael had been sitting since he had arrived. The bed in the room looked completely untouched, with only the winter coat and uniform's jacket belonging to Michael having been shed and flung haphazardly onto the top of the bed.

For a few long minutes, the two of them sat in silence. Bucky didn't take a sip of the whisky, but rolled the glass around his hands. He saw Michael down his own glass in two gulps.

“So—” Bucky began.

“After Dunkirk, I was approached with the offer to join the SOE,” Michael quietly stated, staring at his empty glass. “What I didn't tell you, Steve, or Peggy, was that that offer also came with an assignment that would potentially label me as a traitor to King and country. The SOE wanted me to be a double-agent against the Soviets. My cover were my other assignments all over Europe to cultivate rebel groups, and disrupt operations behind enemy lines.”

The SOE agent looked up, remorse in his eyes as his said, “I wanted revenge for what the Nazis did at Dunkirk. I wanted revenge so much that I took the assignment. And now... there's no going back.”

Michael took a deep breath and slowly let it go. “Because of how we operated, we were in contact with a lot of revolutionary groups – some of them Communists. It was the perfect cover for me to learn about how the NKVD. Народный комиссариат внутренних дел. Soviet secret police. I was eventually assigned to their headquarters in Moscow, as a liaison between the SOE and them.”

Chills slid down Bucky's spine, but he held himself back, and merely offered his glass of whisky to Michael, when the SOE agent paused. Michael wordlessly accepted it and downed that glass in two gulps as well. Yet, Bucky did not get up to refill the glasses – he did not want to get Michael insensibly drunk.

“My tenure there was brief though. Both organizations got word of something going on in Norway. I, along with the NKVD agent I was working with at that time, were sent to investigate. Alexei Shostakov was his name. The same Colonel Shostakov we both know.”

There was a mirthless smile on Michael's lips. “He escaped?” Bucky prompted after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah,” Michael answered, shaking his head slightly, “though at that time, I thought he was among the dead.”

“That would explain why he was the only one who didn't look as terrified as the other soldiers in Kronas. I thought he just had shell shock from what we faced,” Bucky couldn't help but mutter.

It didn't explain the rest of the convoluted, confusing words that Michael had babbled on the rooftop though. And, as much as Bucky wanted to believe Michael's words, he was a little cautious about completely buying into the story.

“Why did they want _you_ in particular to be a double agent?” he asked.

“I had the background,” Michael answered. “Or so they told me. Lone survivor, angry at the government, published that rebuttal piece. It was all public. But I still wanted to serve. I still wanted my revenge. Churchill was the one who recruited me. He assigned me to work under a top agent from MI5 who had experience in fielding double agents. You know him as Chief Inspector Samuel Brewster.”

“But he's Scotland Yard,” Bucky began, surprised.

“He's MI5,” Michael stated. “Scotland Yard has been his cover for a long time. Supposedly, he and a former partner of his were the first agents in a long time to successfully infiltrate an active foreign intelligence circle operating in London. They managed to turn a valuable agent there against his or her motherland.”

As much as those words sent a different kind of unease through Bucky, he willed himself to not react to it, as he wanted to react. He had a reasonable guess as to who exactly was MI5 Agent Samuel Brewster's partner from long ago, and who the two had turned from the Imperial Russian secret police organization.

Bucky's own father, James Barnes, Sr. – not a Yard officer, but a MI5 agent. And the foreign agent the two turned – his mother, Vera Fyodorovna Romanova, now living as the widowed Winifred Barnes.

The SOE agent placed the glass down on the table between them, looking ashamed. “I can't ever tell Peggy this. I've done and said too much that it _looks_ like I've betrayed my country. She can never find out what I did – what I've done – because she will never be 'read' into the operation. That was the condition I made the SOE agree to when they wanted to recruit her.”

“Then why make me shoot you?” Bucky asked, incredulous. “All that will do is tarnish her memories of you – especially if she finds out and _thinks_ that you were a double agent for the Soviets!”

Michael remained silent.

“Fix this, Michael,” Bucky said, unable to keep the plead from his tone. “Please. For fuck's sake, I _don't_ want to have to kill you. I _don't_ want to carry out Philips' orders. I _don't_ want to have to hurt your sister or Steve—”

“Because I _am_ compromised, Bucky,” Michael quietly interrupted, weaving his hands together as he sat forward, hunched over. “During...” he began, but stopped as a grimace flitted across his face. “As a prisoner of HYDRA, I didn't know that Shostakov had survived and 'found' inspiration to go and contact HYDRA themselves. All I knew was that HYDRA was trying to turn us against home, against our families and friends. They tortured us, and injected us with all sorts of chemicals that messed with our sense of self, time, and memories.”

Bucky nodded once – he remembered hearing a part of this from the debrief conducted around the main planning table at SSR Headquarters. The only thing new that had not been mentioned was Shostakov's name and association with HYDRA.

“It wasn't until we were moved to where you found us, that I saw Shostakov again,” Michael continued, “HYDRA isolated me from the others when I saw him. He had someone with him, someone dressed in all black – head to toe. Like a grim reaper. Except that this man had a curious gold ring on his ring finger.”

Bucky couldn't help but frown as he heard the description given to the person most likely Shostakov's 'aide'. The dressage of all black, with a particular gold ring on a finger, and appearance was a memory that Bucky knew that he would never forget. That man had been the one to 'torture' him and Steve, when they had been briefly captured in Estonia.

Except that the 'torture' had not been physically inflicted. Bucky had thought he had felt the stinging whip upon his bare skin, and even Steve had seen it – but neither had actually happened. He had been left untouched, even though his mind had thought it so real.

“That's when the hum, the noise... that _thing_ , started,” the SOE agent stated. “I could feel a compulsion, like a whisper in the back of your mind to do things that I would've never considered doing. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that I had to try to resist. So I tucked all thoughts of staying alive, for Peggy's sake and to escape, into the depths of my mind. The more I 'obeyed' or pretended to obey, the less pressure the compulsion became.”

“But it was still there, still watching you?” Bucky asked, feeling more than uneasy. It was not just because of Michael, but also because of what he and Steve had experienced.

“Yes,” Michael confirmed. “But there was a limit... a range to how long the compulsion remained lodged in my mind. Whatever Shostakov's 'aide' tried to embed within, there was always a strong push to return to Shostakov to get 'treatments'. Re-conditioning. This is how they were trying to turn me into a double agent for the Soviets. They nearly succeeded.”

“Did you tell Agent Brewster? Were you able to tell him, when you returned?” Bucky asked.

Michael nodded in affirmation. “I wanted to be pulled off active duty. Creighton's debrief of me was an indirect way of telling me that they were considering it. Creighton was my replacement in the operation, after Norway. He was under orders to evaluate my fitness for further duty, and he gave the recommendation to reactivate me and my duties.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky exclaimed. “Is he compromised like you? He took Shostakov and that 'aide' of his to a safe house at the first meeting!”

“I don't know,” Michael admitted. “What I do know, and I don't blame Agent Brewster for is that we've never gotten an agent as close to the heart Soviet's intelligence arm as we have right now. SIS attempted infiltration for years upon end with no success. I agreed to be reactivated, knowing that there was a good chance that I could be compelled to do things that could damage the war effort. Creighton was to keep an eye on me, and pick through my debriefs for any useful information. I was, and still am given very limited information.”

“But it didn't work.”

Michael shook his head. “It's working, I think. But because HYDRA is involved in this, it makes it more complicated. Agent Brewster did not expect you to be the one that Philips assigned to shadow me. He wanted to keep this operation clean and without SSR involvement. Limehouse was the closest that any of us considered 'reading' you and Philips into the operation. If only to tell the two of you to keep away.”

“Shostakov and his 'aide' are... were involved in Limehouse?” he demanded. “What else are they involved in, here?”

“I don't know,” Michael stated, shaking his head slightly. “I told you. Given my current status, I am given very limited information.”

“Then why were you trying to make me shoot you? Read Philips into your operation, if only to inform him that what he heard in the recording is—”

“Because I lost control,” Michael interrupted. “I was in the field for nearly a month, and the first time I went back to Shostakov, I had no resistance. It was that bug you placed on me that shocked me out of their control. By now, your commander would have called for Scotland Yard to tail, arrest, or shoot me on sight. I tied both Agent Brewster and Creighton's hands by doing what I've done. Peggy cannot know, and the operation needs to continue.”

Bucky frown got deeper. Michael sounded defeatist, as if there was no way around it. Yet, Bucky could see a route as clear as day, even though he knew that it was not something Steve would ever say or suggest. But he was not Steve – he was the shadow of what Captain America could not do.

This was _his_ mission, his choice to complete it the way he wanted to.

“So make it continue,” he stated. “The device was broken. So what. You want to infiltrate and take down the NKVD? Well guess what, pal, we want to as well. We have evidence that they tried to collapse the SSR from within – with HYDRA help.”

“It started with a code-breaker the infiltrated into our ranks. It didn't stop there, and continued with them _trying_ to infiltrate a woman with the mannerisms and appearance of Lorraine at Estonia. She was a failed super-soldier as well – most likely modified by Zola himself. We found documents, psychological ones, written in Russian no less. Shostakov made a personal appearance at our camp in Estonia. We're fucking through playing nice with the Soviets – not after everything that has happened in the past two months.”

“NKVD, HYDRA, it all goes,” Bucky continued. “One fell swoop, if possible, but I'll take dismantling networks and flushing out agents here and in Europe as a start.” He gave Michael a hard look, saying, “Finish what you started, Michael. Don't take the coward's way out until you're done. And don't ever ask me again to kill you, because I won't. I never will.”

Silence enveloped them and the room. Even though Bucky had not spoken much, the last few minutes had taken a lot out of him. He felt a little parched, and got up. He could feel Michael's eyes on him as he went over to where the bottles of liquor were kept.

Pouring himself a generous two-fingered helping, Bucky heard footsteps approach. He turned slightly when he saw Michael reach over and cover the glass with his hand. He looked up to see the agent with a less despondent look in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Michael quietly said.

For a few seconds, Michael didn't let go of the glass and looked as if he wanted to say something else. Those seconds passed in silence, but Bucky was already moving before his thoughts had fully caught up to his actions.

He kissed Michael; deeply, passionately, with all the fervor he could muster. It wasn't a mission for him anymore – it was who he really was.

* * *

_December 31 st, 1944, morning, somewhere in London..._

It was the awfully foul smell that woke Peggy up. Even as wrapped in warmth as she was, she snapped open her eyes. Instead of darkness, there was light, and it resolved rather quickly into four grey and dusty walls with sunlight streaming across the sliver of windows.

The clang of a door opening and closing behind Peggy caused her to roll over, partially freeing herself from being bundled up in a blanket. The foul smell of the sewage that clung to her nearly overwhelmed her. She gagged slightly, though it was short-lived.

Surprise gripped her as she saw that Fred had been the one to enter, before she was further surprised to see that Steve was wrapped up in a blanket in a similar fashion as she had been. He was lying a few feet away from her, and had woken up with the sound of the door.

What had happened last night, or whenever it had been came rushing back to Peggy.

Before she could say a word Fred said, “Good morning to the both of you. I've brought some food, and a fresh change of clothes that I hope will fit both of you. Once you've changed and eaten, I'd like to question you, if that's agreeable.”

She saw Steve turn slightly to face her while freeing himself from the blanket. He reacted in a similar manner that she had done with the horrific stench surrounding them both, but recovered quickly.

Steve smiled a moment later, relief shining in his eyes. She silently nodded towards him – neither of them knew where they were at the moment. They only knew that they were in safe haven – a safe house of sorts.

Peggy fuzzily remembered what had happened after they had made their way up and out of the tunnels. They had not been led out into the outside though. Fred had led the two of them through so many tunnels and mechanical areas until they had stopped here.

Everything after that was spotty. She remembered being wrapped up in a blanket. She also remembered the reassuring words of her former fiance telling both of them that they were safe now, and to rest.

“Thank you, Fred,” she said, clearing her throat slightly as the smell of coffee briefly wafted across her nose.

Though she wanted to eat first, she knew that remaining in the foul-smelling clothes would only ruin her appetite. Getting up at the same time Steve did, she felt herself wobble because of just how weak she felt. However long she and Steve had been stuck down there was enough for the many hours or days of not eating or drinking to take a toll.

Steve immediately reached out to steady her. “I'm all right,” she said, nodding as she found her feet again. “I'm all right.”

It hadn't escaped her notice that Fred had take a few steps forward when she had stumbled, but had immediately halted when Steve stepped in. Not wanting to cause more of a scene, Peggy nodded towards Steve again before pulling away. Slowly, she made her way to where the bundle of clothing were and picked up the coverall that looked just about her size.

Looking around as she went towards the adjacent area, the safe house seemed to be an abandoned warehouse of sorts. Spotting a sink on the other side of the crumbling walls that showed brick, she called out, “Is there running water here?”

“Running, but I wouldn't recommend drinking it,” Fred's answered echoed into the room.

It was better than nothing. Peggy shed the layers she had been wearing, discarding the outermost as far and away as she reasonably could with a kick. Thankfully, the sewage smell that had clung to her had not penetrated entirely to her underwear, as she quickly, but lightly rinsed her hair.

It was cold without the blanket or the outer layers of her clothing. Deciding to continue to wear the layer closest to her underwear, she donned the coverall and quickly button it up. Warmth enveloped her again, but it was still chilly without the additional layers of clothing. It would have to do, as she kicked the rest of her clothing into a bundle and slowly shoved it back into the main room.

Unsurprisingly, Steve had taken the time to change as well. Both of them kicked the pile of clothing together. Fred came over with two cups of coffee in tin mugs. The strong smell of the liquid briefly covered the foul stench of the clothing.

“I think we should burn them,” Steve stated.

“The smell produced from that can't be as bad as the cigars that DumDum loves to smoke,” Peggy couldn't help but state as she accepted the mug and stepped away.

The snorted chuckle of Steve filled the air as the three of them went a little ways away from the pile. Both she and Steve were given egg sandwiches. As much as she wanted to devour the food as quickly as possible, Peggy forced herself to eat slowly. It wouldn't do much for her own body to reject the sudden intake of a whole sandwich swallowed.

“What's the date?” Steve asked after a few minutes.

“Thirty-first of December,” Fred answered.

Peggy glanced over to Steve – they both knew that she had a breakfast appointment with her brother. The fact that they were here, in an unknown place—

“What do you remember? Why were you in a closed-off section of the Tube?” Fred asked, drawing their attention back to him.

“I need to call Michael, Fred,” Peggy stated. “He'll be expecting me for breakfast. We've been stuck down there for two days.”

“And I need to know how much the two of you remember in those past two days,” Fred immediately countered, surprising her. She had never known him to be belligerent with his words.

“Hey,” Steve interrupted, taking a step forward. “Enough.”

“No,” Fred stated, shaking his head. “I'm sorry, Captain, but this is something I need to know. From both of you.”

“You don't need to interrogate us in that fashion,” Steve said with a hint of anger in his tone. “Why do you need to know right now?”

She saw him place his empty cup to the side of some broken down crates. If anything, Peggy could swear that he looked slightly more imposing, especially when he crossed his arms over his chest.

Yet, Fred was now cowed by the gesture—and then it hit Peggy as to the reason. “You blew your cover to get to us.”

Fred remained silent, but his lack of answer said it all. Nevertheless, Peggy was puzzled. “The SOE had an operation... on home soil?” she asked. “Isn't that supposed to be left to MI5 or the direction of Home Office? SOE is under the Foreign Office's jurisdiction.”

“What do you remember?” Fred quietly asked after a long moment of silence.

“Very little,” Peggy answered, glancing over towards Steve. There was still a stony look on his face, but she could see the realization of their words exchange start to take hold. “All I remember is wanting to investigate something down there, and asking Steve to come along with me. Next thing I know, we were being rescued by you.”

“Thames,” Steve spoke up, eyebrows furrowing. “I'm getting blanks like you, Peggy, but I think you said something about smelling what led us to Limehouse. That airplane fuel and sulfur smell.”

“Where?” Fred asked, almost demanding the location.

Peggy saw Steve shake his head. Try as she might, Peggy couldn't remember where exactly she had smelled it, even though Steve's words sounded vaguely familiar. It was frustrating, but there was one thing she knew she could try – a recall technique that she had developed early on in her days working at Bletchley Park.

“On the 28th, I remember meeting up with Michael for breakfast at this cozy cafe that he said he found,” she began. “I had eggs, toast, coffee... We invited Michael to the celebrations at the pub going on that night. We all had reports to complete, but I was also ordered to brief the Prime Minister and his cohort with Michael. Philips ordered me to state everything that happened – to not withhold details.”

Peggy fell silent for a few moments, but only because after the briefing, her memories of what happened after that were a little fuzzy. The recall technique using what she remembered she ate that day, was not working the way she had hoped it would.

“It's all a little muddy for me after that,” she admitted. “I remember having fun at the celebration. I remember you, Steve, walking me home, and I remember us meeting up in the morning at the Tube station. After that...”

“I remember some of that as well,” Steve stated. “Especially Philips' order for my report. I do remember Bucky arguing with me about some wording or another. I think it was about who wounded Karl.”

“Michael did,” Peggy stated, frowning slightly. “Bucky's hand was on the gun, but it was Michael who pulled the trigger...”

“Peggy?” Fred prompted as Peggy fell silent.

It wasn't much, but it was something that stood out to her in the fuzziness of her memories since the 28th. “I remember... Michael was angry at the fact that Bucky was revealed to be a super-solder. We argued about it... in someone's office. A person came in... and...”

Peggy sucked in a quick breath – the memory resolving itself clearly. She looked up, saying, “Greg. Greg was his name, and he had the fuel and sulfur smell on him. I remember tracing it to an unused door within SOE Headquarters – an emergency door to get to the tunnels.”

There was also finally a reaction from Fred as she saw him take a step forward in slight alarm. “You smelled that smell in SOE Headquarters?”

“Not just there,” Steve spoke up. “I think we smelled it somewhere in an active Underground line.”

“Where?” Fred questioned, frowning.

Peggy saw Steve shake his head, grimacing as he tried to remember. She had no memory of what Steve was talking about, but she had to trust his words. At Fred's glance over towards her, she shook her head as well – try as she might, she couldn't remember anything else.

She watched Fred, who now had a pensive look on his face. Just as she saw Steve open his mouth to say something, Fred abruptly walked away. Peggy followed him with her eyes, as he disappeared into the other adjacent area within the warehouse.

A few moments later, he returned, this time bringing a long-corded telephone with him. Setting it on the same set of crates where Steve had placed his tin mug on, Peggy watched as Fred picked up the receiver, saying, “Scotland Yard, Whitechapel. Chief Inspector Samuel Brewster.”

Peggy glanced over at Steve, frowning slightly. It was strange for Fred to be calling a specific person in the Whitechapel district, rather than the district that SOE Headquarters was in. Yet, the phone call didn't seem to be an alert of sorts – of a potential evacuation of the area.

“Where is he?” Fred demanded over the phone after a few minutes of silence. There was another few seconds of silence before Fred continued to say, “Get me a secured line to the Savoy then.”

Peggy saw him withdraw the receiver from his ear and unscrew the cover of the speaker. She saw him take a small device before snapping it into the speaker and screwing the cover back on.

“What's going on?”

Steve's question, even though it was spoken with authority, seemed to snap Fred out of whatever he was doing. She saw him jump ever so slightly before looking up at them. However, he held the receiver close to himself and seemed to consider his words for a moment.

“I'm getting permission to read the two of you into an operation. There are certain persons who would not like either of you to be read into the operation. But, considering what the two of you have encountered and experienced, I believe that this is the best route to take.”

“And what does Chief Inspector Samuel Brewster have to do with this?” Steve questioned.

“He's my commander,” Fred stated.

Peggy blinked, staring at him in shock. “But you said that you transferred to the Foreign Office, not Scotland Yard.”

“Recently transferred.”

She took a step forward, glancing over at Steve to wordlessly tell him to remain silent. She had heard the shortness in his tone, the strain, and everything in between. It was the hallmarks of someone who was unused to lying for a living. Fred was trying his best not to reveal whatever it was he didn't want to reveal, but was failing.

“Get permission, if you can, Fred,” she gently stated. “If not, then we won't ask anymore questions of you.”

“Peg—” Steve began, protesting.

“We won't ask any further questions,” she repeated, shaking her head at Steve.

“Thank you, Peggy,” Fred stated, bringing the receiver back up to his ear.

~~~

_At the same time..._

Peggy was late.

“She's never late,” Bucky heard Michael mutter as he saw him check the watch he was wearing again.

They were sitting across from each other at the table in the Savoy. Two empty chairs were adjacent to either side of them, waiting for be filled by Peggy and hopefully by Steve.

The Carter siblings had made a breakfast appointment with each other for the end of the year. Bucky had learned that the appointment was yet another tradition – to which he had somewhat facetiously asked if everything the two did had solemn rites to go with the traditions. He had received a glare and gentle smack on his arm from Michael in response.

That response hadn't been much, but it told Bucky just how Michael was feeling after last night's confession. Hesitancy and uncertainty in their new facet of their relationship clouded everything – including sex. Yet, Bucky was determined to make it work; he didn't want to feel that tearing ache in his heart again.

“You can't blame them for being late,” he answered, returning to the present. “Maybe they're _busy_.”

“Coming from any other person, I would have believed ignorance,” Michael stated, shaking his head slightly at him. “But from you, it sounds absurd.”

“It was worth trying—”

Bucky immediately fell silent as he saw Michael's eyes widen with a brief flash of fear running through them. He turned in his seat and saw Philips approaching. The SSR commander was not alone though – Lorraine, along with David, and most surprisingly, Chief Inspector Brewster, were approaching. Two MP though, were flanking the small group.

Bucky immediately got up, and stood at attention, just as Philips greeted him with a simple, “Sergeant Barnes.”

“Sir,” he answered, keeping his eyes on his commander, and not on the others in the small group. Behind him, he heard Michael get up as well.

“Agent Carter,” Philips curtly greeted as well. “If the two of you would come with us.”

“Yes, sir,” both he and Michael stated at nearly the same time.

They were a slightly motley group of people as they left the common area of the Savoy. However, few paid attention to them, having seen many groups of military personnel leave and go as they pleased. The walk to the small conference room was short, but Bucky noticed that the MPs that flanked them did not enter the room.

It was only when Chief Inspector Brewster and Philips looked to be settling in front of the four of them, that Bucky glanced over at the others. There was confusion swimming in David's eyes, curiosity and puzzlement in Lorraine's eyes, and a hint of uncertainty in Michael's eyes.

“The three of you,” Philips began, gesturing to Lorraine, David, and Bucky, “are being read into Operation Midnight, a joint on-going operation between MI5 and certain members of the SOE.”

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun historical fact: the SOE did in fact sort-of liaise with the NKVD during the war.


	16. Into the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 4, Episode 6.

**Chapter 16: Into the Fire**

“The three of you are being read into Operation Midnight, a joint on-going operation between MI5 and certain members of the SOE.”

Though Bucky kept his expression as composed as possible, he was slightly concerned as Philips gestured for Chief Inspector Brewster to take over the briefing. It was not for Michael though – he reasonably assumed that the SOE agent had all but told him about the operation last night. His concern lay more towards David – despite what recently happened between the two of them.

Philips' words of warning in pulling the young engineer further into a spying life still rang in his ears. David was by no means of a delicate countenance, but Bucky knew that the young man was still sheltered from certain aspects of the war.

In a way, Bucky understood why David's father had tried so hard to keep his son out of the espionage business. In just the past few days, he had found out some aspects of his mother and father's lives that he wish he'd never known.

The fact that his mother was still active in the business made it even more harrowing and heartbreaking. It was especially prominent with Bucky's presumptions of unstated implications of what exactly she had threatened Becca's fiance with, if he did not turn.

Spying was an extremely dirty business that constantly left a wake of ruined lives behind.

Yet, Bucky could not bring himself to walk away from it. It still pulled at him, the intrigue, the secrets, the unraveling of things – the work in the shadows to serve and protect. Despite all the physical and emotional pain he had gone through, the warring in his heart at what he did to Michael, to David, to even Lorraine, Bucky loved it.

He loved the spy's life.

And he now understood how much it was going to cost to read in not only Philips, but just the three of them, into an ongoing operation. The war in the shadows was escalating, even as it looked like the Allies were beginning to push and slowly collapse the Axis powers. There had been more ripple effects than intended, ever since the SSR began assisting the Soviets in Estonia.

Before the Chief Inspector could continue though, the lone phone sitting at the desk in the corner of the room suddenly rang. Everyone's attention was drawn to it, before Chief Inspector Brewster strode over and picked up the phone.

“Yes?” Bucky heard the man say.

Instead of answering, he and the others saw the Chief Inspector unscrew the speaker portion of the receiver and reach into a pocket to draw something out. A tiny device of some sort was snapped to the inside of the speaker before the cap was screwed on again.

“Secured,” was all the Chief Inspector stated into the phone before listening to what was being said.

“What is that device?” Bucky heard Lorraine whisper. He glanced over to see that David had a clear frown on his face as the young man stared at the Chief Inspector.

“Scrambler, I think,” David answered, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “When Meigs was helping us at Estonia, he and I got to talking about signals and securing them more than we currently have. He said MI6 was developing a scrambler of sorts... portable and—”

“Agent Carter,” Chief Inspector Brewster suddenly stated, looking up and over towards Michael. “A word.”

“Yes, sir,” Michael answered snappily.

If David's frown could get any deeper, it tried to, as Bucky saw him follow Michael's short walk over to the Chief Inspector. Bucky could see the theoretical gears turning in David's head as he was attempting to piece together the fact that the Chief Inspector was more than he let on. It was ever more prominent with the fact that a SOE agent was answering to a Scotland Yard officer – with familiarity.

“Barnes,” Philips quietly stated, having moved to the other side of the small room to give the Chief Inspector a semblance of privacy.

“Sir,” Bucky answered, glancing over at his commander.

“You've already been read in.”

Lying at this juncture was futile, even with the quiet tone that his commander used so that Lorraine and David could not hear his words. Thus Bucky nodded once, saying, “Partially, sir.”

He glanced over towards Michael, who now had frustrated look on his face, before returning his attention to Philips. “He told me what he is, what he had done, and why. I believe him, sir. I made the call. I didn't pull the trigger.”

Philips nodded once before stepping away. Bucky glanced down at the ground for a brief moment. He had not expected any praise for his judgment to not carry out the remainder of his mission, but he also had not expected Philips to merely acknowledge what he had done without comment. It was strange, as Philips almost always had a comment after each secret mission he had completed.

“Permission granted. Expect our arrival in one hour. Pattern circus,” Chief Inspector Brewster's statement drew Bucky's attention back to the matter at hand. The Chief Inspector then tapped the carriage several times in a specific pattern.

“Small arms and discreet radios, drop off point dollhouse,” Brewster stated into the phone, pausing for a moment before hanging up the phone. After three seconds, the Chief Inspector then picked it up again and took the scrambler out of the housing, slipping it back into a pocket.

“One of my agents found and rescued Captain Rogers and Agent Carter in a disused tunnel within the Underground—” the Chief Inspector stated.

“Are they all right?” Bucky immediately asked. Ice gripped his stomach as he realized that far be it that he hadn't _seen_ Peggy or Steve in the past couple of days – the two had been _missing_.

“They are,” Brewster answered. A look of warning to not interrupt again from Philips to Bucky, shut him up, as he held back his other questions.

“I'll be brief on this, as I do not know how much time we have, before the culprits dismantle or set off what they have,” the Chief Inspector continued. “There could be another potential Limehouse incident brewing, but because of the current situation with Soviet and HYDRA agents potentially watching our movements, our movements have to be kept in low profile.”

“Brief while on the move?” Philips asked, overriding whatever questions the rest of them had.

“Correct,” Brewster answered. “We'll be picking up firearms and communication equipment on the way. Nothing fancy, but hopefully enough to get the job done.”

~~~

Steve watched Creighton carefully as he hung up the phone. A few minutes ago, there was a determined look about him, as he had demanded to whomever was on the end of the line to connect him to Chief Inspector Brewster. Now, there was a reluctant look on Creighton's face, as the Foreign Office representative turned slightly to face the two of them.

“Operation Midnight was conceived during the Great War,” Creighton began. “There were concerns from our leaders about the rapid spread of several revolutionary groups and ideas that could potentially destabilize our own government. One of them was Communism. Midnight's goal was to successfully infiltrate and place an agent or several within the heart of then-Imperial Russia's intelligence arm. It almost succeeded when Agent Brewster and his partner managed to turn a Guard Department agent against her people.”

“But then, the revolution happened,” Peggy quietly stated.

Creighton nodded in agreement. “The British government lost their way in. Since then, it has been difficult to successfully infiltrate a loyal agent into the Soviet intelligence arm. That is, until recently. Because of what the SOE was created to accomplish, MI5 approached Churchill for permission to use one of his agents in Midnight's endeavor.”

Steve saw Creighton pause for a moment before his eyes seemed to focus solely on Peggy. “That agent was your brother, Peggy. He had the background for it, and he agreed to become a double-agent for us.”

Steve glanced over at Peggy, who had a stricken look. Before Steve could close the distance to put a comforting arm around her, Peggy stepped away, shaking her head slightly.

“Dunkirk,” she said, seemingly lost in her thoughts as she walked towards the entrance to the other room. “He had been so proud that he got his piece published. So angry for what happened to his friends, his platoon there... And then, he abruptly left one day, after telling us that he had rejoined the war effort in a different capacity.”

“He wasn't allowed to tell you anything, Peggy,” Creighton stated, as Peggy turned back to face the two of them. “He also made it a condition to not tell you about his true duties when Churchill wanted to recruit you. Agent Brewster got his permission just now, to inform the two of you.”

“His cover... was Europe?” Peggy hesitatingly asked.

Creighton nodded in affirmation. “As a SOE agent, he was posted as a liaison within the NKVD, the Soviet secret police, in Moscow. When he was declared dead, I was approached as his replacement.”

“What?” both Steve and Peggy exclaimed at the same time.

Of what little he knew of Major Frederic Creighton, Steve didn't think that the man would have been willing. Creighton seemed to carry himself with the utmost integrity and honesty – certainly not what Steve imagined to be a devious nature. In fact, Creighton reminded Steve of a typical bureaucrat – someone similar to how Senator Brandt behaved at times.

Rather than answering their question, Creighton continued to say, “Michael and my mutual contact with the NKVD was Alexei Shostakov.”

“Shostakov?” Steve questioned before Peggy could, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Then what the hell was all of what we did in the first and second meetings for?”

“Discovering what exactly Shostakov wanted from us – all of us, _Captain_ ,” Creighton answered in a calm tone, though emphasis was put on his rank.

That emphasis was supposed to serve as a reminder that Creighton outranked Steve, and that Steve needed to watch how he was speaking to a superior. It greatly rubbed Steve wrong, as he curled his lips back slightly in disgust. But before he could continue to berate the officer, Peggy intervened by briefly placing a calming hand on his arm.

“The Estonia reports that the SSR filed was the tip of the proverbial iceberg that allowed MI5 to begin to see what exactly the Soviets were trying to accomplish on their side of the war effort,” Creighton continued. “We began discovering that they were implanting several falsified pieces of intelligence behind for others to pick up, such as the OSS and SIS. The problem with several of those falsified pieces were that there was always a grain of truth in those pieces – enough that it was difficult to determine falsehood from truth.”

“The other problem was _how_ the Soviets were gaining access – deep access – to plant those kinds of information, and why. We didn't consider HYDRA or affiliations with HYDRA until the SSR discovered that Michael and the platoons that sortied with him in Norway were found alive.”

“Then why the deception and divide that happened in the second meeting, Fred?” Peggy asked.

“Shostakov, or rather, the Soviets had a new weapon,” Creighton stated. “An object shaped like a ring that had the ability to some how influence or control a subject's actions, words, or memories. The SSR encountered it in Estonia.”

Both Steve and Peggy glanced at each other. Steve did not recall writing anything like that of the sort in his report. He had reported everything that he could remember from the time that he and Bucky had been captured, but nothing had been seen by him about a ring.

“Sergeant Barnes' report was the only one that contained any mention of a ring,” Creighton supplied. “Given the effects he theorized that it caused, it may have well been the same weapon that the Soviets had.”

The officer paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Michael was repeatedly exposed to it during his time in captivity. They implanted compulsion commands for him to periodically return to them for 'conditioning'. The Soviets were trying to turn him—”

“No,” Peggy's voice cracked on her denial.

“We do not know if they succeeded or not,” Creighton said. “I suspect that we truly will never know. However, given what he told us, I believe that he has been actively fighting the command. It was also a boon to us – I recommended him to be redeployed into the field as a deterrent against Shostakov and his people. I was assigned to monitor him by Agent Brewster.”

“Additionally, due to the SSR being the first to encounter such a weapon, we also had to consider the possibility that both you, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes were compromised.”

“Now just wait a second—” Steve protested angrily.

“That's why OSS and SIS did not invite the SSR to the second meeting. MI5 intervened to ensure that the SOE was covering SSR actions,” Creighton interrupted. “We had little to no scope of just what the Soviet weapon could do. We only knew of Michael's compulsion orders, and perception manipulation in Sergeant Barnes' report.”

“Steve,” Peggy gently spoke up, as Steve felt her place a hand on his arm, drawing his attention away from the officer. “He's right,” she continued. “They extrapolated a worst-case scenario through two points of information that could not be verified.”

“Peggy,” Steve began, feeling disheartened.

Instead of directly answering him, he saw her turn her attention to Creighton, saying, “But that was over a month ago. Surely you have more updated information and assessments?”

“We do,” Creighton answered nodding. “Long-term, repeated exposure is needed for the compulsion command to be planted and remain. The subject's thoughts, emotions, memories... everything about the person must be known to achieve that. We believe what the Soviets employed at both meetings, and against the two of you is more of an illusory hallucination. A possible surface manipulation to see—”

“—things that aren't really there. Like a mirage,” Steve followed up, anger cooling slightly.

“Yes,” the officer answered, nodding. “As we gathered more information on the Soviet weapon, we took a look at the Limehouse incident and the events that led up to it. That led us to believe that parts of the Soviet war effort – specifically Shostakov and his people in the NKVD, were working with elements of HYDRA. And why they were hell bent on acquiring the HYDRA super weapon in the Ardennes after all the blunders they've committed.”

“HYDRA didn't want them to have the super-soldier formula,” Steve quietly stated. “Zola must have gotten word about what happened in Estonia. With Marta and all of the bodies of the women we found at that HYDRA facility, their alliance or whatever it was, most likely suffered.”

Creighton didn't answer – the officer didn't need to. It was just a statement of fact that Steve felt it needed to be said. He was never going to say that HYDRA had ethics, but he was saddened that so many had to die for an unholy alliance like that to fracture.

He did see the officer focus his attention on Peggy again, saying, “When your brother mentioned to me that you smelled the fuel and sulfur scent again at Headquarters, I ordered him to deter you from investigating. I and a few other men from MI5 were already investigating it. It wasn't just because it was a domestic issue; we didn't want the SSR to get mixed up in another potential Limehouse incident again.”

Even as Peggy nodded to the words, Steve asked, “But none of your people found out where the smell was originating from?”

“I suspect one or two of them did,” Creighton answered. “And I also suspect that those one or two may have run into the Soviet weapon, and were manipulated to forget. Much like the two of you. But I didn't expect Greg Baker, the person you ran into while at Headquarters, Peggy, carrying around the smell. He's the government liaison that signed all of the paperwork for Michael and the others to be 'resurrected'.”

“Then, what about the soldier at Limehouse, sir?” Steve asked. “He's American. His company was supposed to have been shipped out to France days before Limehouse. Yet, he was the only one left.”

“I don't have an answer to that, Captain,” Creighton stated, shaking his head slightly. “That—”

There was a sudden knock at the door on the far side of the area they were in. It turned into a patterned knock before it stopped. However, it seemed that the pattern was expected as Creighton immediately turned from both of them and strode over.

The door was opened, surprisingly revealing Philips and Agent Brewster in the lead. Even odder, David followed the two in, with Lorraine behind the young man. Michael followed them, along with a man that Steve didn't recognize. Bucky took up the rear and closed the door behind him.

“Colonel Philips. Agent Brewster,” Steve greeted, clasping his hands behind him as he stood at attention.

* * *

_Shortly thereafter, London Underground tunnels..._

“Steve...” Bucky began. “We have got to sit down and talk about where exactly you should and should not bring dates to.”

“Bucky...” he heard Steve groan over the radio in exasperation. It was nearly lost to Michael's outright laughter through the radio. “You're such a jerk,” Steve continued to say.

At the same time, he also heard Peggy's exasperated, “Sergeant...” both through the radio and behind him.

“Well, I suppose that's one way to do a periodic radio check,” Lorraine's mutter was also clearly heard through the radio.

“Confirm radio receive and transmit. Check in again in fifteen,” Philips' statement to them silenced the chatter.

“Copy, fifteen,” came the crisp answer from Chief Inspector Brewster himself.

Silence enveloped the four-man team that Bucky was a part of, save for the occasional noise of their footsteps stepping through puddles. The smell was awful, but he was able to stomach it – he had to. Neither Peggy or Steve could remember where exactly they had found the explosive mixture. All they remembered was that it was on an active line.

That necessitated them to split up into two teams. He, along with Philips, Peggy, and Creighton were on one – headed towards the Piccadilly line. Steve, along with Brewster, Michael, and Lorraine were investigating the Bakerloo line.

Initially, he had thought that Peggy would have wanted to go with Steve and Michael. Yet, her adamant insistence that both he, Bucky, and Creighton join her and Philips was a slight surprise to almost everyone present.

Michael's nod of acceptance in the team orders, along with the words that Bucky remembered the SOE agent stating, gave him some insight as to the reasoning. Peggy was still coping with the fact that her brother had willingly become a double-agent, and had put himself in incredible danger.

Peggy had stated nothing of that sort. Instead, she had given a fairly reasonable explanation; that because both she and Steve had gaps in their memories of what had happened to them in the past couple of days, it was better if they split up to recall their routes.

Their relay was the joint MI5-MI6 designed small radios – derived from what Creighton and Michael had used during the second meeting at the Savoy with Shostakov. David was to make the necessary adjustments on the spur of the moment for the devices to work this far underground.

The young engineer was being protected by the MI5 agent whom Brewster had contacted earlier to discreetly bring a bag of small firearms. To Bucky's surprise, that MI5 agent was the concierge whom he had interacted with twice at the Waldorf.

At the thought of the young engineer, Bucky couldn't help but worry a little. It was clear to him that Brewster had only intended the initial meeting to be a briefing – a read into Operation Midnight. Or at least as much as the MI5 agent was willing to read three SSR personnel and his own son into such an operation.

While it would've been more prudent for Brewster to have sent his son back to SSR Headquarters as soon as the call from Creighton had come in, Brewster had made the call himself. Bucky didn't dare ask why though; he could come up with two reasonable explanations himself.

One, was that considering where they were now, David was the only one with the engineering knowledge to enhance the radios that MI5 had provided. The second reason was that because they had moved quietly and quickly to the site, David had been spotted walking with both a 'Scotland Yard officer' and Philips. There was the possibility that enemy agents could have seen him and deduced his value to the SSR.

As much as Bucky wanted to put his faith in the former, rather in the latter, he knew it was a naive thought to have. David was one of those people that should not ever be in the active field. Passively, he would have agreed to, but in a potentially active combat area...

Bucky mentally shook his head – there was nothing to be done at the moment. The only saving grace was that Brewster had left the concierge agent with David, armed. The young engineer had been given a pistol by his father, but it had been reluctantly accepted.

Bucky had seen the clear mistrust and divide between father and son grow ten-fold the more Brewster had briefed them on the details of Operation Midnight. Despite what had happened between him and David in the past forty-eight hours, he had stepped in after David's father had given the young man a pistol.

There hadn't been any sort of forgiveness in David's eyes, but there was a sense of fear that diminished as Bucky demonstrated the bare basics of how to handle a gun. It was a simple and quick 'point and shoot' lesson. But, it was enough to erase most of David's nervousness and fear.

He had ignored Brewster's thankful look towards him when he had stepped away. It was not his place to try to repair the shattered trust between father and son. Yet, he couldn't help but pause for a moment when he felt Steve's reassuring, comforting hand land on his shoulder. Though it had been only for a brief moment, acknowledging what he had done, Bucky knew that Steve knew of his reluctance in giving any sort of firearms training to a civilian.

A nudge against his arm brought Bucky out of his thoughts. He glanced over to see Peggy giving him a reassuring look before nodding. While it didn't do much to alleviate his worry, he knew that he had to focus on the mission. He could worry later.

Nodding once towards Peggy, Bucky focused his gaze forward and all around again. The smell of the sewage in the disused tunnels of the London Underground was overwhelming. Bucky was certain that it was also covering the fuel and sulfur smell. But they were approaching the tunnel that would lead them directly to the active Piccadilly line.

Creighton held up a hand as the sounds of an approaching train echoed down the tunnel. As it swept past, Bucky could feel a faint breeze drifting down and past them. However, it didn't carry any sort of noxious scent with it – only little relief from the smell of sewage.

When the train finally cleared, Philips gestured for them to continue down the tunnel. Though they did not smell anything that pointed to the mixture, there was still the possibility that the mixture was somewhere on the active line.

At the intersection to the active line, Bucky looked around, but could not see anything. There was nothing on the ceilings, walls, or even on the tracks—

“Loosened,” Creighton stated, crouching down, but did not nudge the track directly in front of them with his foot or pistol.

Bucky took a closer look at what the officer was stating, and noticed that there was a dampness in the center of the gravel between the tracks. “It's wet,” he said, pointing to the area with his pistol before dragging it towards the west. “And it's leading down that way. Got a light, sirs?”

“What?!” Creighton exclaimed. “Have you lost your mind?!”

“The trail is not big enough to cause a catastrophic explosion, sir,” Bucky calmly answered. “It's also damp enough that all we're probably going to get is some flame show.”

“He's right, sirs,” David's quiet agreement sounded over the radio. “Assuming that the width of the trail is an eighth or less of the size of the width of the tracks.”

“It is,” Peggy answered, crouching next to Bucky.

“Sergeant,” Philips' rumble from above both of them caused Bucky to turn slightly.

He reached up to accept the book of matches that his commander handed to him. Giving his gun to Peggy for the moment, Bucky then took out a match and struck it. He held it up above the damp spot before dropping it and quickly drew his hand away.

As expected, and a little larger than he had estimated, the damp spot immediately burst into flames. It traveled quickly down until it reached its end, which was about a foot from where they all were.

“Looks like they left in a hurry. To the west we go,” Philips stated, as Bucky accepted his pistol back from Peggy.

“David, flip the switch on the side of the case,” Brewster's radio crackled slightly. “That will give you a direct radio line to Churchill. Hopefully the signal is strong enough to get out. Inform him via these words of what is going on: 'Midnight on the firing line in Piccadilly'. Understood, David?”

There was a minute pause over the radio before David answered, “Yes, sir.”

There was a melancholic tone in that acknowledgment of the order, but Bucky did not linger on his worry for the young man. Instead, he focused on the task ahead and followed Philips and Creighton down onto the tracks, gun out and pointed ahead.

~~~

It chilled Steve to think that he couldn't even remember that he and Peggy may have had found evidence earlier – a lot earlier than now. The days, hours that the two of them had spent being strung in unbreakable chains gave HYDRA, the Soviets, or both enough time to move the explosives.

Yet, Steve pushed the thought out of his mind as he held up a fist to halt the team. The sound of a train was approaching on the Bakerloo line. As the train passed, a gust of wind was carried down towards them – and Steve _smelled_ it.

He only had a moment to share a startled look with Michael before the two of them, along with Lorraine and Brewster tore down the tunnel. They got to the intersection as soon as the train finished passing, but Steve's eyes were already drawn up to the ceiling.

At once, a clear memory burst forth:

_Steve felt his stomach turn to ice as the flashlight stopped at the particular area on the ceiling of the tunnel. It was difficult to tell, but Steve thought he saw two glass bottles attached with a line between them. That line led to several sticks of dynamite that looked to be stuffed in another glass bottle._

_Worse yet, it looked like the apparatus repeated itself and ran up and down the tunnel as far as the flashlight's light could reach._

“David, same message, but on the Bakerloo line,” Brewster's curt order snapped Steve out of the memory.

“Understood, sir,” came David's reply.

“Shite, how far does this go?” he heard Michael softly curse.

Michael was still staring up at the ceiling, but was casting his gaze far and down towards the south. “Michael and I will take the south, sir,” Steve stated.

“We'll take north,” Brewster stated. “Status updates every five minutes, Captain.”

“Yes—” Steve began.

“We got bogeys here as well,” Philips' voice over the radio interrupted them.

“Copy,” Brewster stated. “Trains should be stopped soon. It's bound to potentially alert Shostakov and his ilk of what's happening, so keep a sharp eye out.”

There was a chorus of acknowledgment from all of them. Steve immediately squared his shoulders and quickly, but quietly made his way down the tracks. Michael flanked him, and together, the two of them swept each alcove and adjacent tunnel they passed.

It was just beyond the third adjacent tunnel, and past several explosives strung together every few feet, that the sound of gunfire erupted over the radio. “Contact, contact, contact!” was all Steve heard Philips shout before the transmission began garbled.

As much as his heart leapt into his mouth, Steve's instincts screamed at him not a split second later. He dove and tackled Michael onto the gravel between the tracks. The spitting hiss of gunfire flew over his head. Flecks of metal sparked and bit at him from the ricochet.

Squinting as tried to look up to see where the enemy was firing from, he knew that he shouldn't have been as surprised as he saw black-clad soldiers firing at them from behind alcoves and the adjacent tunnel further up ahead.

Steve managed to bring his pistol up and fired several shots towards the nearest HYDRA soldiers. There was a few seconds lull in gunfire, but it was enough for him to scramble up, drag Michael up, and throw him towards one of the alcoves.

Ducking into the other alcove opposite of where Michael was, the buzz of gunfire started up in earnest again. Shards of stone peppered him, as Steve tried to make himself as small as possible. He wished he had a rifle or his shield, but there hadn't been time for the MI5 agent who had brought weapons, to bring anything larger than several pistols in an unobtrusive satchel.

Looking over towards Michael while waiting for a lull where HYDRA was going to reload their weapons, he saw Michael gesture ever so slightly with his chin towards the ceiling. Not that they had to watch where they were shooting, he knew what Michael was thinking. Perhaps a few shots towards the explosives strung together would give HYDRA pause.

Steve shook his head. HYDRA did not care about their own lives – he had seen it countless amounts of time while in the field. It didn't matter if they threatened to bring down several tons of rock on them, HYDRA would just keep fighting. There had to be another method—

A rather oddly bent pipe caught Steve's attention. It was a fairly long shot, but it could potentially work. He had read about the odd weapon that people from Australia used. The pipe, bent as it was, could potentially act like a boomerang.

He yanked on the pipe several times before it was freed. Glancing over at Michael, he made a small gesture with the boomerang-pipe in his hand. Michael acknowledged the order with a curt nod of his head, and immediately stepped out, firing as quickly as he could.

Steve followed a split second later, firing a few shots before drawing his arm back. He threw the boomerang-pipe with all of his might and watched as it sailed towards the HYDRA soldiers. What soldier the boomerang-pipe did not strike, Steve shot at.

Both he and Michael rapidly made their way down to the next adjacent tunnel, as the boomerang-pipe hit its last target and clattered to the ground. Silence enveloped them when they got to the tunnel, with both of them pressing themselves against the wall, listening for any signs of HYDRA beyond and in the tunnel.

It was slightly difficult to hear over the cacophony of noise from the other teams taking fire from HYDRA as well, but he could hear the curt, steady orders of Philips issue into the radio. Of Brewster and Lorraine, it seemed the two were holding ground as well.

Steve peeked out from where he was pressed up against. It was dim in the active tunnel, and even darker in the maintenance tunnel. But he couldn't see or hear anything—

A sudden cry – feminine in tone – lashed out into the radio, freezing Steve for a brief moment. That moment turned into downright fear as he heard Bucky shout, “Peggy!”

“Carter is down!” Bucky's shout blasted across the radio. “She's wounded—shit—”

Bucky's radio transmission became garbled. Steve could feel a panic rising within him, but immediately grabbed Michael to prevent him from running to wherever Peggy was. But even as he pinned the SOE agent to the wall, he heard a familiar buzzing noise spool up close to them.

Steve swung Michael into the adjacent tunnel, and flung himself after the agent, just as HYDRA's blue-bolted machine gun opened fire _behind_ them.

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No shield, no rifles, no heavy weaponry. Just Steve, Bucky, and the others wielding pistols and wits against HYDRA.


	17. Between the Darkness and Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 4, Episode 19.

**Chapter 17: Between the Darkness and Light**

It was too dim and Peggy's clothes too damp and soaked from the ground for Bucky to tell just how badly she was bleeding. All he knew was that she had taken a shot to her right shoulder. Even as she clutched her shoulder, she was still coherent enough to attempt to wriggle out from under him to attempt to return fire at the HYDRA soldiers.

Bucky kept her pinned down though, covering her as best as he could from HYDRA's merciless weapons. He was also preventing her from being even more reckless than what he could assume Steve was engaged in.

He knew that he shouldn't have said anything over the radio, but at that very moment, he couldn't help it. He had had to try to make sure that both Steve and Michael did not attempt anything stupid in the name of Peggy being wounded.

At the moment though, Bucky's thoughts were not focused on Peggy, and instead, he was sighting and shooting as fast as he could at the HYDRA soldiers. Using the trajectories of their blue bolts, and what glow he could see, he fired his pistol at the targets. Wounding shots were most likely all that he was doing through. He was almost blindly firing, even with his enhanced vision—

“Barnes, go! Evacuate Carter!”

Philips' barked order, followed by a rapid _rat-a-tat-tat_ of near-simultaneous gunfire from his commander and Creighton briefly alleviated the blue bolts whizzing over his head. Wasting no time, Bucky immediately hauled Peggy up, scooping her into his arms and ran.

Faster than he had ever run before, Bucky pounded through the center line of the tracks. Stray bolts of blue chased after him. Evacuating Peggy from the battlefield within the active tunnel lines was priority, even though he knew that his commander and Creighton were outmatched against HYDRA.

If Peggy died, he didn't know what Steve or Michael would do. He didn't even know he himself would do. All he knew was that that would be the end of the SSR as they knew it.

Though it was convention that women were not supposed to be in the battlefield, no one had thought that HYDRA or other enemy forces would be mad enough to open fire within the tunnels. Especially with active and explosive materials all around them.

But... the SSR had backed HYDRA into a corner.

Peggy's groans of pain spurred Bucky into running faster, as the echoes of gunfire continued to chase after him through the tunnels. “Stay with me, Peggy!” he shouted, willing himself not to panic as his sharp turn into another tunnel elicited a cry of agony from her.

“Hang on!” he continued to say, as the echoing _bzzt-bzzt-bzzt_ of HYDRA's weapons became ever louder.

Bucky knew that he was not going to make it to the SOE Headquarters' emergency exit – not with HYDRA closing in. He didn't want to head in the direction he was being forced to take, but he had no choice. He couldn't make it to the surface. He needed more firepower, and time to try to find some way to stymie Peggy's bleeding.

“Incoming to your position, Radio!” he shouted, hoping that his words could be heard by David and the agent stationed with the young engineer.

If they heard him, he couldn't hear their answers – his own earbud was fizzling in and out with the shouts from the others, and HYDRA weaponry. Turning two more sharp corners in a service tunnel, Bucky skidded out into the main tunnel where they had left David and the other agent.

He could faintly see the two via the flashlight that the agent had on him. He closed the distance within a matter of seconds, immediately putting Peggy as gently, but as quickly as he could on the ground against an alcove.

“Keep her awake and hold her still!” he ordered to David, who had all but abandoned sitting next to the radio that looked to be half-opened and strewn about in modification.

Bucky shoved Peggy's uninjured hand into the young engineer's own, the action spurring David to begin asking Peggy questions in an attempt to keep her awake. The agent with the flashlight had immediately crouched next to the two of them and shined his flashlight against Peggy.

A chill went through Bucky as he saw just how much blood she had lost, with more pulsing out of her shoulder wound. He had little field medic training – only what he had learned from watching the medics do their work in the 107th, but he knew enough to know at least something that he could do to stymie her bleeding.

He wasted no time and immediately ripped apart the lower portion of his coat. Balling the cloth together, he pressed it against Peggy's wound. As much as she tried to keep herself focused on David, she couldn't keep the cry of pain from escaping her lips. He, along with David, and the agent with the flashlight didn't let her move much with her involuntary reaction to move away. The agent had also immediately reached over to try to help him hold her down, and apply pressure where his hand was.

Seeing that the agent had as best of a hand hold against the balled up cloth as possible, Bucky heard the ripping of more cloth, and saw David handing over the sleeve of his own coat. Accepting it, Bucky ripped it into shreds and nodding towards the flashlight agent to move Peggy forward so he could wrap and bind her wound.

Before he could get more than one revolution around her shoulder, the echoed sounds of pounding footsteps suddenly became louder. HYDRA had caught up with them. He softly cursed and immediately snatched up Peggy's pistol – his own already emptied.

“Bind her and get her topside! I'll draw them away!” he ordered the two as he scrambled up and sprinted away from the three.

Ignoring their splutters, Bucky was already drawing up the gun and had turned slightly at the intersection. As soon as he saw the tell-tale glow of blue, he fired. Two soldiers were already down when Bucky turned around and continued to fire behind him as he ran into another tunnel.

He didn't know where he was going, but he could definitely hear the buzzing of HYDRA's weapons chasing after him. Flecks of super-heated materials from the splash of the deadly bolts sprayed and burned him, but he didn't stop. He had to draw HYDRA away—

Something dense, heavy, hard, and shadowed by the dimness of the area slammed straight into Bucky. Stars and blackness enveloped his vision as the last thing he felt was himself flying backwards, before darkness claimed him.

~~~

Either he and Michael were out of the range of the radio, or otherwise, it didn't matter at the moment. All Steve concentrated on was the fact that the two of them were leading HYDRA away from the explosives. He didn't know where in the tunnels they were. However, it was clear from the occasional flash of blindingly bright blue light that chased after them, that there were no explosives hovering over them.

HYDRA was clearly giving chase, but Steve had made sure that he caught the ire of the soldiers by being slower than he normally would've fought at. He had deliberately emptied his pistol of all ammunition, firing wounding shots to _make_ HYDRA chase after him and Michael.

Steve wanted to go to where Peggy was, but he knew that the best the two of them could do was make sure that they gave Bucky enough time to evacuate Peggy out of the tunnels. Philips' orders for Bucky to 'go' was the last thing either of them had heard over the radio.

“Think they're angry enough, Steve?” he heard Michael huff with the quip as the two of them paused for a moment. Michael was trying to catch his breath, while Steve peeked out from where they were hiding to check behind them.

In response, Steve merely fired a few shots from the HYDRA weapon that he had snatched up just as they began this rather maddening cat-mouse chase. “Yeah,” he answered as the shots he had fired at the far bend of the tunnels was answered with raging roars of HYDRA soldiers.

“Go!” he urged Michael, pushing him forward as he turned to fire a few more shots, just as the enemy soldiers began to appear around the bend.

Racing down dim tunnels again, Steve continued to occasionally push Michael forward some more. He also blindly fired behind him with the rifle to keep the enemy soldiers chasing after them. Yet, it was the crackling, garbled scream of “—wake up! Bucky! Wake—” that sent him into a near-panic again.

David had shouted that over the radio, and it sounded like it was being punctuated by the percussion of gunfire. It told Steve that Bucky had somehow gotten Peggy out of the line of fire, but had not made it the surface. Somehow, his best friend and best girl had both been forced to take shelter where David and the other MI5 agent manning the radio were...

… and their position was being overwhelmed—

~~~

“—ky!”

Bucky snapped his eyes open as the last echoes of David hoarsely screaming his name immediately faded. He dodged purely by instinct, just the enormous foot of a HYDRA soldier towering over him came smashing down.

Instinct drove him to snatch at the foot of the soldier the moment the soldier's weight shifted forward. As much as he unbalanced the soldier, sharp, white-hot pain immediately exploded against his stomach. He felt himself being lifted off the ground again for a brief moment, and then tumbling over and over across sewage-soaked ground.

Slamming into another solid wall, black spots erupted against Bucky's eyes, but he forced himself to get up, to charge and fight back through the pain that wracked his body. Dodging and weaving left and right, he curled in himself before unleashing a flurrying of punches against the enemy soldier as fast as he could.

His fists were hitting flesh and armor, but the soldier was not folding. Just as he lashed out in a snap kick, his instincts screamed at him to move. Dropping to the ground with bone-jarring force, Bucky rolled and twisted out of the way before a second enemy soldier could tangle him in.

Rolling up, he immediately leapt, catching a third towering soldier who had tried to tackle him, by surprise. Searing pain jolted through Bucky as he hit the soldier's jaw with his right palm, but he wasn't done just yet. He immediately whirled to the left around the soldier, hooking his left arm in as tight of a hold as he could into the soldier's vest. Using his relatively shorter stature, he flipped the soldier as forcefully as he could into the ground.

Bucky plucked the knife from the soldier's vest, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears and more black spots that appeared in his vision. He didn't get a step towards trying to get back to David and the others, before the three tall soldiers – Moe, Larry, and Curly, his mind mockingly named – surrounded him.

Even with his strength fading as dizziness began to affect his movements, Bucky tried to push past the sluggishness of his own body. He barely blocked the first two punches thrown by Moe and Larry, before Curly-soldier's fist smashed into the back of his head.

The knife slipped from his hand. Bucky could feel himself falling and floating at the same time, as his vision pitched down. He knew that he should have felt the impact of the wet ground against himself, but instead, a burst of colors exploded behind his eyes.

Rapidly spreading white spots dotted his vision as he felt himself being lifted by the neck. He could barely feel his torn back being scraped up against a wall. His hands tried to pry the iron fist grip around his neck, as he fought and kicked to try to get free. Derisive laughter in his ears punctuated the sounds of gunfire in the air.

He couldn't breathe—

~~~

Steve marched into the area, targeting the weapons instead of the soldiers behind the weapons. He rapidly pulled the trigger once-twice-three times. The wild explosion in the middle of the HYDRA horde trading gunfire with the small team at the radio caused Steve to turn and briefly cover his face with his arm.

It was short-lived though, as Steve brought the HYDRA rifle to bear again and fired—once. He had run out of energy to power the weapon. Michael was still firing, but the two of them were in the thick of it now – and HYDRA was fast in recovering.

Just as Michael ducked into an alcove, Steve caught movement out of the corner of his eyes. Three muscular, tall soldiers had been knocked down, but in the middle of the circle that they had formed was Bucky, face down on the ground and not moving—

A harsh growl of anger escaped Steve's lips as he flipped the empty rifle end over end, and held it by the barrel. He sprinted towards the first of the three trying to get up. Before the HYDRA soldier could even get his bearings, Steve swung the butt-end of the rifle into the soldier.

The rifle cracked in half with the force of the blow. The soldier's neck was snapped back, with the body flying up and away a few feet. Yet, Steve didn't stop there and immediately charged at the second soldier who was also in the midst of getting up.

“Get away from him!” he growled, drawing his right fist back before leaping and lunging in to punch the soldier square across the jaw.

His fist never made it, as Steve's momentum forward was arrested by the outstretched hand of the soldier clasping around his fist. He immediately swung his left fist, but found himself standing on his tip-toes.

Steve looked _up_ as the soldier drew himself to his full height, lifting Steve's right arm with him. The soldier was taller than he was, and muscular-looking. Steve was suddenly reminded of that one time that he and Bucky had stupidly gotten themselves entangled with two enormous bullies that had mob affiliations—

~~~

Bucky tasted blood in his mouth as a familiar-sounding grunt of exertion near him jolted him awake. Gunfire no longer rang in his ears, and only the buzzing sound of HYDRA weapons echoed around him. Snapping his eyes open as he shakily lifted himself up from the ground, he spat out foul-tasting water and blood at the same time.

Another grunt coming from the same area had him looking over to see _Steve_ of all people, trying to fight the tall soldier. The soldier had his hand curled around Steve's right hand and was crushing it—

Fury unlike anything he had felt before enveloped him. What agonizing pain that had wracked his body, the coughs he wanted to take from the brief momentary lack of air within him, the dizziness threatening to send him reeling, the spots blinking across his eyes were nothing. Even before he was fully aware of his actions, Bucky was already moving. It took him three large steps to cover the distance from where he had been laying, to where Steve and the soldier were.

Slamming into the enemy soldier's midsection was like slamming into a brick wall, but Bucky _pushed_ as a scream of rage escaped his lips. Even with just an inch of movement to unbalance the soldier, it was enough for him to immediately whirl around. He struck the soldier's outstretched arm, before the soldier could pull Steve in to smash into him.

Nimbly dodging, he further unbalanced the soldier just as the soldier dropped Steve, by lashing out and kicking the back of the soldier's knees. Rather than continue to attack, Bucky snatched Steve up by the sleeve of his uniform. He got both of them just enough away from the HYDRA soldier, and the other one as well, to briefly breathe.

“Just like old times, eh Buck?” he heard Steve mutter to him as they stood back-to-back.

His attack on the soldier that had tried to crush Steve's hand hadn't done much, and the other soldier was now fully recovered. The two enormous soldiers were warily circling them like vultures, though Bucky considered it a boon that the third soldier was laying dead a little ways away.

“Yeah, definitely like old times,” he agreed, wiping the blood that dribbled from his lips with the back of his hand. He was doing his best to suppress the agonizing pain that wracked his body, while remaining upright.

“Ready?” Steve asked.

_I'm with you, until the end of the line._

“Ready,” he confirmed.

A split second before either of them, or the enemy soldiers moved, the faint, familiar yell of “Wahoooo!” cut through the air. The Howling Commandos had arrived.

It was enough to cause a momentary distraction for the two HYDRA soldiers. Bucky leapt at the same time Steve did as well. Together, they charged and punched each of their respective enemy with a one-two fake out before launching into their own signature styles of combat.

Bucky slammed his knee up and into the unprotected groin of the soldier, folding the soldier ever so briefly. Twisting to his left, he hooked his ankle around the soldier, while simultaneously managed to grab a part of the soldier's armor with a free hand. Drawing the soldier briefly forward, Bucky immediately untangled himself before the soldier could fall flat on him, and whirled around.

What was left of his uniform jacket was shucked off mid-whirl. As he appeared behind the soldier, Bucky wrapped the jacket one-and-a-half times around the soldier's neck before he _pulled._

Slamming back onto the cold, wet and debris-covered ground sent white-hot pain lancing up and down his body, but Bucky did not let go of either end of the jacket. He tightened his grip and continued to pull and twist.

The HYDRA soldier flailed and clawed at him. Bucky braced himself against the soldier's shoulders for a brief moment. He wrenched the jacket to the side what little strength he had left—

_Snap-crack!_

Bucky sagged with relief as the soldier abruptly went still. Letting go of the tattered pieces of his uniform jacket, he pushed the soldier off and away from him. It was also then, that he became aware of just how relatively silent the area was.

Gone were the sounds of HYDRA rifles buzzing through the air. Only the sounds of boots approaching, along with DumDum's continued shouts of 'Wahooo' shattered the silence.

Blearily, Bucky glanced over to see Steve slowly getting up. The soldier that his best friend had been fighting had seemingly been dusted by someone. That someone was surprisingly Michael.

Bucky saw Michael approaching from another tunnel, holding a HYDRA-made rifle at half-ready. It looked as if the SOE agent had helped dust the HYDRA soldiers while he and Steve had been fighting the two giants.

“Up you go,” Steve said, as Bucky refocused his attention on him and reached out to clasp Steve's arm. He was half-hauled up, but managed to not wince in pain. He knew that it would only worry Steve even more, and Steve already had Peggy to worry about—

“Peggy,” Michael's exclamation drew their attention.

Bucky saw the SOE agent approach the area where David, the MI5 agent, and Peggy had been taking shelter. The radio apparatus had all been destroyed somewhere in the fight. The MI5 agent looked exhausted but relieved that the fighting was over. David was scrambling up from having thrown himself over to cover Peggy.

As for Peggy... Bucky waved Steve forward, silently nodding to him that he was not as injured as he probably looked. It was a lie, but he didn't care. The rest of the Howling Commandos were going to be here in a few moments – they would be duly reinforced.

They didn't have to wait long, and unsurprisingly, it was DumDum who appeared first. Falsworth, newly healed, along with Morita, Jones, and Dernier followed. The five weren't the only ones to show up, as Bucky couldn't help the slight smile quirking up on his lips – several members of the 107th had followed the Commandos down into this hell hole.

“We have wounded here,” Steve stated, as Bucky caught a rifle being thrown towards him by one of the 107th. “Dernier and Falsworth, get Peggy and Agent Denton topside to a hospital as fast as possible,” Steve ordered. “Michael go with them. David, you as well.”

Bucky could clearly see that the man was torn between wanting to continue to help down here, or make sure Peggy was going to be all right. Before Michael could begin to protest, Bucky interrupted, saying, “Steve, I'm taking the platoon to find Philips and Creighton.”

Steve glanced over at him, and Bucky could feel those sharp eyes of his on him, scrutinizing him. Before his best friend could discern the full extent of his injuries, Bucky was already issuing orders for the 107th to move out. It would be up to Steve and the remaining Commandos to find Brewster and Lorraine in the tunnels.

He knew that he should have went with the others to the surface. He could clearly feel something inside of him move, when it shouldn't have been moving. Dizziness still clawed at him, and pain lanced up and down his body with each jogging step forward he took.

But he had no choice. Peggy was wounded and she was the only other person who knew where Philips and Creighton possibly were. He had to lead his men into the tunnels laced with explosives, and into danger – they would leave no man behind.

* * *

_January 2 nd, 1945, somewhere in London..._

Peggy sleepily blinked her eyes open. A ceiling, along with the murmur of voices greeted her as she blinked. A dull ache was spread about her body, but as her eyes roamed around, she noticed someone sitting to her left.

Wincing as a jolt of pain lanced through her neck, right shoulder, and arm, Peggy managed to turn her head just enough to see who it was. That jolt of pain didn't last long though, and seemed to fade into the dull ache. She could only conclude that she had been given some morphine.

A smile crept up her lips as she saw her brother sitting by her bed, slouched slightly over with his head tilted to the side. Someone had draped a thin blanket over him. A shadow of a beard enveloped the lower half of his face. He was asleep, but there was a peaceful look on his face—

“He's been by your side ever since you were brought in, Miss Carter.”

Peggy glanced up to see the nurse on duty had stopped by the foot of her bed. The nurse was young, her age or a year older. Yet, there seemed to be an aged look in the woman's eyes that spoke of seeing too many wounded and dying men on the hospital beds.

“He told us that the two of you had a breakfast appointment during his leave,” the nurse continued, fondly smiling at the still-sleeping Michael. “He also said that he hoped that you would awaken soon so that he didn't have to leave without saying farewell. I'm glad that he'll get to keep his promise to you, Miss Carter. It's good to see families reunited with the war and all—”

“Peggy?”

Michael's sudden rousing silenced the nurse as Peggy saw her smile before nodding at them both and stepped away. Peggy focused her attention on her brother, who had pushed the blanket off of him and leaned forward. “Thank God,” he exclaimed, clasping her hands with his own.

“I'm sorry, Pegs,” he continued. “I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have kept it from you. I shouldn't have dragged you into this—”

Peggy couldn't help the tears brimming in her eyes as she nodded and said, “I'm all right, Michael. I'm all right. All is well, now.”

Silence fell between the two of them for a few long minutes. Though she was still torn about the fact that her brother had taken on such a dangerous role and mission, she found that she could no longer stay angry at him. The lives that they led were what made them, and there was no changing any of it.

“What happened? And for how long?” she asked, as she looked around.

The chamber was all civilians, though more than a few had privacy curtains drawn around their beds. It didn't escape her notice that the chamber was not only filled with injured women, but specifically a few that looked as if they worked in the building that housed the SSR Headquarters.

“It's the second of January, Pegs,” her brother answered. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year to you as well, Michael,” she replied. “I hope this year brings you better fortune than the last.”

“With what's happened, I think it already is happening,” Michael quietly answered, leaning forward slightly so she could hear him better. “HYDRA never set off those explosives in the tunnels. They were real, but they were also a fail-safe. As soon as Churchill got the word from us, he ordered the power cut for the whole city. I heard that Howard Stark had surmised that the explosives were supposed to have been set off by an electric surge that could be masked by the trains.”

“But...” Peggy began, as her brother fell silent. “That wasn't HYDRA's goal?”

Michael shook his head, before squeezing her hand for a moment. “During our hunt below, they made a direct assault on SSR Headquarters.”

Peggy's eyes widened in shock and horror. “H-how many?” she asked, looking around again.

“Fourteen servicemen and women dead,” Michael stated. “Twenty wounded. The majority of them being the phone operators and secretaries above ground. Stark's countermeasures worked.”

Peggy remained silent. She knew that she could argue Michael's point about countermeasures – whatever Howard had done – working, but it was useless to do so. Without whatever Stark had done for the defense of the SSR, she knew that there could have been more dead. Yet...

“That was also a distraction?” she couldn't help but ask.

“Shostakov and his men tried to infiltrate Stark's laboratory during the chaos,” Michael said. “He wasn't captured, and neither has his aide been sighted since. Two of Shostakov's men were. They're currently being held and questioned.”

She frowned – feeling both anger and sadness well up in her. Anger at the fact that everything that had happened had only been a 'distraction' for the Soviet agent to use and try to steal whatever he had been after. Sadness in the fact that her brother had suffered through so much and had such little reward to show for – especially with the fact that his tormentors, Shostakov and Shostakov's aide, had escaped.

“Ports and airfields are under lock down,” Michael continued. “But it's similar to looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“And you?” she asked, withdrawing her hand from under his and laid it on top of his. “Surely the nurse wasn't telling the whole truth when she said you haven't left here since...?”

Instead of answering her question, her brother said, “Steve will be here soon.” There was a pause before he belatedly added on, “That is according to Lorraine, whom I believe is in the other chamber, getting updates from the nurses to report to Colonel Philips.”

Peggy blinked once, twice; giving her brother a puzzled look. “Lorraine? I sense a story there.”

That got a faint smile to appear on her brother's lips. “She's nice when she's not putting up a front. She has been genuinely concerned about you. She admires you a lot, and I think that's why she's found it... difficult... to interact with you.”

Peggy considered her brothers words. “Admires?” she questioned, before she thought again about her brother's words. “Oh,” she softly said, as she realized what her brother was saying without outright saying it. “Um,” she began, feeling slightly flustered before confusion settled in. “Then why...?”

“Why what?” Michael asked.

Peggy shook her head slightly, but it was the wrong thing to do as she wince slightly as the jolt of pain returned and settled. “I'm all right,” she said, briefly squeezing her eyes shut as she heard her brother shift and move to help her. “I'm all right,” she repeated, opening her eyes. “Just... shouldn't do that yet. I suppose that the wound is not quite healed.”

She saw her brother settle back into his chair, before saying, “You and Bucky... you're both so alike, yet unlike each other in observations. You see, you observe, but only through the logic. Romantic whimsy has no place in either of you, and thus you fail to notice.”

His words were not meant to be an insult, just a straight forward analysis. Peggy knew that her brother was right in a sense, but also wrong. “Would I have been happy?” she softly asked.

Michael shook his head. “No, I don't believe you would have.”

“And you?” she asked. “How are you and... Are you happy?”

She never got an answer to her question with regards to her brother's relationship with Bucky. At that moment, Steve had entered the chamber, bearing a small bouquet of flowers. She felt Michael slip his hands from her her own, as he stood up. “Go, and be happy, Pegs,” he softly stated to her.

“Hey, Steve,” her brother said, turning his attention to Steve, who was making his way to her. “You made it in time. Peg's just woke up.”

“Michael,” Steve greeted, before flushing slightly pink in shyness as Peggy saw him turn his attention to her. “I'm glad you're recovering, Peggy.” As Michael gestured for Steve to take the vacant seat, she saw her brother begin to move a little ways away, looking to leave both her and Steve alone.

“Steve,” she said, focusing her attention back on the man she loved, as she watched him place the bouquet of flowers in an empty vase. “Thank you.”

“I'm sorry I couldn't arrive earlier, Peggy,” Steve began. “Bucky's somewhere here as well, but I don't know where he is at the moment...”

~~~

Bucky glanced to either side of him for a brief moment, before slipping into the office. He supposed that it shouldn't have been as much of a surprise as he had felt when he saw that not only was Philips waiting in the office, but MI5 Agent Brewster was as well.

“Sirs,” he respectfully greeted.

There was only one reason why his commander would call him into a clandestine meeting – there was a target of opportunity that needed to be taken out. However, it was unusual for Philips to be the one briefing him, and in the hospital, no less. Yet, with Brewster here as well, just the two's presence and location made Bucky slightly worried.

“Cracked ribs, multiple hairline fractures and contusions, continued symptoms of nausea, dizziness, and sensitivity to bright light,” Philips stated, closing a folder that he held in his hands. “Son, you shouldn't even be up, much less moving for the past two days. Morphine doesn't work on you, and you... escaped... before the doctors could sedate you.”

Bucky remained silent and continued to hold himself at parade rest in front of his commander. He wasn't going to argue the fact that he had worked with worse injuries in the field before. Philips knew that; the man had all but stated that he needed comparisons between the serum that ran through Steve's blood, and Bucky's own variant.

Finally, after a half-minute of silence, Bucky asked, “Shostakov is somewhere close to here, isn't he?”

“Disguised as a doctor, and laying low to escape the scrutiny. Lorraine alerted us. He is currently making rounds on the third floor ward,” Philips stated. “Do you think you're fit enough to do this?”

“Capture or kill?” he asked.

“Capture, if possible,” Brewster spoke up.

“Kill, only if there is no other choice, Barnes,” Philips followed up.

As much as Bucky wanted to derisively laugh, he held himself back. “Do I even have a choice?” he stated instead. Before his commander could answer, Bucky addressed Brewster, asking, “What was the plan, Agent Brewster? What was the plan that you had for my mother, if the Imperial throne had not fallen? Would she have done something similar to what I'm doing right now? The shadowed hand—”

“Yes,” Brewster answered, interrupting him. “Because that's what she was. She made a name for herself with the blood of my fellow agents, before she turned.”

As startled as he was, Bucky felt a strange ache briefly well up in his heart. “Does she know?” he asked. “Does she know... what I do?”

“She does,” Philips confirmed. “And she knows why.”

Bucky glanced down at the ground for a moment as a bitter smile quirked up the edges of his lips. Looking back up, he simply said, “This can't be done quietly, sirs.”

“We didn't expect it to, but we're ready,” Philips answered.

Without another word to either of them, Bucky turned and exited the office. As he walked out into the slightly busy hall, an unexpected voice spoke up from his left, saying, “May I join you?”

He glanced over, surprised to see Michael leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. It had been two days since he had last seen Michael – the last time with Michael being urged by Steve to evacuate Peggy and the others. There was a two-day growth of stubble covering the agent's jaw, making him look slightly different.

Bucky couldn't help but wonder if Michael had stayed at the hospital for all of this time. He didn't blame him for doing so and not helping with the cleanup operations. If Becca or Steve had been in the same situation as Peggy, he, Bucky, would have said to hell with everything and sat vigil with either of them.

Yet, Bucky remained silent. It was not that he didn't want Michael to come with him on his mission to capture – or assassinate – Shostakov. It was that he didn't know if Michael had compulsion orders to stop _him_ from completing his mission.

Nevertheless, his silence was long enough for Michael to step in a little closer and murmur, “I can reasonably assume you got assassination orders from your commander and mine. I saw both of them walk into the office before Philips signaled to you.”

Bucky turned slightly, saying, “If you're looking for revenge against Shostakov, I'm not accommodating you.”

“I don't have compulsion orders, if that's what you're worried about,” Michael stated before lowering his voice a little more. “I don't know why the doctors didn't sedate you, considering the state you're in. You look like hell, and you're going to need help.”

As much as Bucky wanted to retort, he didn't. Despite his doubts about the fact that there could've been some compulsion command embedded so deep within Michael that the agent didn't even know about, he tried to push that thought away. He had told Philips that he believed Michael, and he did not want to continue to make himself out to be a hypocrite of his own words and beliefs.

“Capture if at all possible,” he quietly stated, and pulled away.

To his relief, Michael quietly followed him for a few steps before deigning it more appropriate to walk beside him. To a bystander, doctors, or nurses they passed in the hall, it looked as if they were going to visit someone, but as the two of them emerged onto the third floor, an eerie silence enveloped them.

It was not because of some unnatural cause, but because this floor contained the critically injured. The first chamber he and Michael entered had all beds occupied by servicemen who had extensive injuries. None of those soldiers would be able to live normal lives again.

Shostakov was not in the first chamber, but before he or Michael could enter the second one in the hall, a nurse bustled up to them, asking, “May I help you, sirs?”

“We're looking for the doctor,” Michael stated as Bucky hesitated a second too long in answering.

“Doctor? Dr. Hill? Dr. VanDoorne? Dr. Protegeren—”

“Dr. Protegeren, ma'am,” Michael interrupted.

The nurse gave both of them a slightly skeptical look before gesturing down the hall, saying, “He should be in his office, at the end of the hall. Please do keep in mind that visiting hours for this floor will be ending in ten minutes.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” Bucky stated.

The two of them made their way down the hall, as Michael whispered to him, “Dutch, infinitive verb, derived from French and borrowed from the Latin word: protego. To protect. Alexei is derived from Alexander, which means 'defender'.”

Bucky couldn't help the impressed look that he gave him. He knew that his Russian was native, but he had never really considered studying the language in-depth to figure out the linguistics behind it. However, now was not the time to be discussing anything like that. He settled for merely nodding, and refocused himself on the mission.

It wasn't an office per se that Bucky entered at the end of the hall. Rather, it was another chamber. There were similarly injured men laying in beds, with at least one nurse on duty, who looked to be busy at the moment. The door to Dr. Protegeren's office was slightly ajar.

Bucky approached it with some trepidation, but he kept it from showing. It felt too easy, too simple to just approach without any complications. All of his other assassination missions had felt similar to this, but it was only because he didn't know the target like he knew now. Yet, there was no guarantee that the doctor that Michael had chosen was Shostakov.

Silently entering, Bucky saw a man sitting hunched over the desk, scribbling something on a piece of paper. Yet, even without a full profile or face-to-face view, Bucky recognized Shostakov by the hairline, hands, and posture. He took a single step over to let Michael in, before shutting the door. The sound of it was enough for Shostakov to raise his head and look up at them in surprise.

“< _Surrender, Colonel Shostakov,_ >” Bucky calmly stated in Russian. “< _I'm not going to ask a second time._ >”

~~~

“Steve?”

“Hm?” Steve asked as he placed the glass of water back down on the table, and reached over to tuck the blankets around Peggy a little more snugly.

“How are you?”

He couldn't help but smile. “Bright and fine, Peggy,” he answered. “A little tired and still nursing my bruises with ice, but on the mend—”

“No,” she interrupted him. “How are you?”

The smile disappeared from Steve's lips, even though he tried to maintain it. He knew what Peggy was asking about, and despite it all, he didn't want to answer her question. He couldn't lie to her, but yet, he didn't want her to worry about him.

After a minute of silence, he sighed and quietly said, “I wish this war would end soon.”

In response, Peggy merely removed her hand from underneath his and placed it on top of his hand, patting it. Words needed not be exchanged between the two of them. Steve was grateful that she was just there, alive and able to give him strength to push through the darkest of the days he faced.

~~~

“< _You have brought him to me, Michael._ >” Shostakov exclaimed as Bucky saw a rather sinister smile spread out across the man's lips. “< _Excellent. Subdue and sit him down in front of me._ >”

As much as Bucky's instincts were screaming at him to defend himself, he didn't move an inch. It was only because Michael had not moved from where he was standing, hands clasped behind him, resting in a slight parade-rest attention. He glanced back at Shostakov, and saw the man's smile begin to droop into anger.

“< _I gave you an order, soldier._ >” Shostakov stated. “< _You will—_ >”

“< _Fuck you, and fuck your orders._ >” Michael snapped in Russian. “< _You don't control me anymore, you fucking maggot._ >”

Michael withdrew the tiny sidearm that had been tucked in a pocket that Bucky had not seen at all. It looked like a one-shot pistol, but the SOE agent was pointing it unwaveringly at Shostakov. “< _Surrender, you bastard, or else I will kill you._ >”

Bucky dared not take a step to close the distance to either Shostakov or Michael. He knew that he had said that he was not going to accommodate Michael's need for revenge against Shostakov, but at the moment, he wouldn't be able to deflect or block the shot. There was the rather concerning 'orders' from Shostakov—

“< _I think not._ >” Shostakov stated, staring unflinchingly at Michael before physically turning slightly to focus his attention on Bucky. “< _As for you, Sergeant. It is unbecoming of an assassin of your calibre to be given a choice on orders. Your mother never chose to allow her targets to surrender. Or so I was told by Colonel Rostov himself._ >”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. The words, the implications of those words... just what did Shostakov – no – Colonel Rostov at Estonia, know about him? Or his mother? Did they _know_ about who she was, and what she had done?

“< _You will have to kill me, Sergeant._ >” Shostakov stated, spreading his arms wide and standing up from his desk.

Movement out of the corner of his eyes briefly drew his attention to Michael, whose hand that held the tiny pistol was now shaking. Bucky could see him straining to do something, and he realized that Michael was _trying_ to pull the trigger, but somehow couldn't. For all the lack of hesitancy that Michael had displayed while in the field, Bucky knew that something was terribly wrong with the SOE agent.

“< _I will not surrender. Kill me properly as your mother would have done. Show me that you are the soldier in your Thomas Paine's words... the winter sol—_ >” Shostakov declared.

Bucky snatched the gun from Michael's hand— _heartbeat—fire._

The bullet didn't miss, but instead of impacting what he had seen as Shostakov, it impacted the bookshelf behind the desk. The illusion that had been Shostakov suddenly melted away. A split second later, the flash of someone running past the desk again appeared as if it were a deja-vu.

Bucky sprinted towards Shostakov. Before he could reach out and snatch the tail end of the white laboratory coat that the Russian agent was wearing, the agent suddenly leapt and crashed through the window.

~~~

It was the screams that accompanied the horrendous sound of something smashing through glass that had Steve scrambling up. He sprinted out of the chamber and down to the first floor, tearing out into the streets, as he skidded to a halt.

Yet, there only seemed to be some debris, shattered glass, and pieces of brick on the ground below. Whatever had caused the debris to fall, it certainly wasn't someone who had jumped out of the building. It also didn't look as if civilians had been injured by the falling pieces, as several Yard officers quickly responded to the commotion.

Steve glanced up, only to see Bucky leaning out of the third floor, where there was a rather enormous hole in the side of the building. Nothing was on fire, and Steve could not smell anything foul to indicate detonation of any explosive. Yet, there was an extremely puzzled, confused look on Bucky's face, as he caught his attention.

Instead of giving him an answer, he saw his best friend abruptly turn away and retreat back into the hospital. Steve couldn't help but stare at the hole on the third floor, before catching the arrival of Philips out of the corner of his eyes. Surprisingly Agent Brewster accompanied Philips as the two emerged from the hospital.

“Sir?” he questioned, as Philips silently crouched and looked around, before looking up at the hole in the side of the hospital.

“Goddammit,” he heard his commander softly swear. “They played us like fools.”

“Who, sir?” Steve asked.

“Shostakov,” Philips answered, standing back up. “Shostakov and his aide. They were here. And now they're gone, thanks to a timely distraction and that damn ring's illusion.”

~*~*~*~


	18. Moments of Transition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 4, Episode 14.

**Chapter 18: Moments of Transition**

_Mid-January, 1945, SSR Headquarters..._

They were not supposed to be in London. That much was clear from Philips' rather blunt statement to them as soon as they had disembarked at the airfield. It was the first time that their commander had personally met them outside of the SSR after a mission. Circumstances dictated it to be so, and as much as Bucky hated those circumstances, there was nothing that any of them could do about it.

The fallout from what had happened on the eve of the new year, and into the first two days had not just been political. It had almost caused the entire SSR to be disbanded.

As soon as Philips could do so, he had sent not only the Howling Commandos away on a mission to support the continued push into Germany, he had done so for all 107th personnel. Of the other SSR personnel – the secretaries, code-breakers, engineers, and others, Bucky did not know what became of them. But, from what he had seen, most of them had remained.

The Commandos had been away for nearly two-and-a-half weeks. Yet, when they returned, the atmosphere in the SSR felt different. It felt more alive. Bucky saw faces full of pride, and eyes of defiance whenever someone mentioned something outside the direct chain of command in the SSR.

“Philips told the War Committee to go to hell, and that he would gladly meet them there after we defeated the Red Skull.”

Bucky turned from where he had been leaning against the parapet on the SSR's rooftop. He had not expected David to be up here, much less walking towards him. Since he had ensconced himself up here after the relatively short debrief, several personnel, including some of his fellow Commandos had come up to the rooftop to briefly smoke.

His fellow Commandos had not bothered him, knowing that he preferred to be left alone whenever on the rooftop. They were all ordered to stay within the building, as the brief recall was only because they were being sent on a high priority mission: capture Dr. Armin Zola.

That debrief was due to start as soon as Steve reviewed and planned out the general strategy that the Commandos were to take. The fact that they had intelligence with regards to Zola's location was contributing to the pride in the SSR personnel's eyes. Bucky was glad that Philips' gamble in exposing him, Bucky, as a super-soldier created by Zola had worked.

At the present, Bucky returned his attention to the young man. “David,” he greeted in a rather neutral tone.

The Commandos' leaving had been abrupt enough that they had not loaded out on the usual armaments they had carried. Everything they had taken and used had been from 'the Cage'. Thus, he had not even seen David since the day before the new year.

“Are you going to smoke that?” David unexpectedly asked, gesturing to the lit cigarette that sat in front of him.

“You know I don't smoke,” he carefully answered.

To his surprise, the engineer suddenly swept it up and brought it to his lips. Bucky blinked and stared at David as the young man smoked the cigarette with ease. David was not even coughing at all, and stranger yet, held the cigarette as if he had been smoking nearly his entire adult life.

“I started as soon as I was discharged from the hospital,” David stated, staring out at the horizon. “It helps... with... everything.”

Bucky glanced away, knowing that he should not have been as surprised as he was, for the young man to take up such a habit. Several of his fellow soldiers within then 107th who had never smoked before, started smoking shortly after they had landed in Italy. It had been the only way they had been able to cope with what they saw and did.

Yet, the silence that sat between them was not as uncomfortable as Bucky thought it would be. It was only after David smoked the cigarette to its butt and stubbed it out that the young man suddenly said, “You're right.”

He glanced back at him, and saw David fold his hands together, resting his arms on the parapet. David glanced over, saying, “I pushed my own presumptions onto you, ever since that night I confessed.”

“It doesn't change a thing, David,” he quietly answered.

David was silent for a moment before saying, “I know. You're at least more honest about who you really are, than my father had ever been.”

“Why do you say that?” Bucky asked, puzzled.

He had not heard of what happened to the SOE or to Agent Brewster and Operation Midnight since the failed capture of Shostakov. He suspected that he would never get an answer either.

Yet, he knew that he could only take comfort in the fact that at least Agent Brewster had been honest about what Vera Romanova had been and done when she had been a Guard Department agent. He suspected that if he had never gotten himself entangled in Estonia or its fallout, he would have never known what his mother had been and still was.

“He lied to me,” David simply stated. “He lied to me my entire life. About who he was, what he did – everything. I feel like, I don't even _know_ him.”

“Have you told your father how you feel?” Bucky couldn't help but ask.

Silence answered his question, but he did not miss seeing the tightening of David's jaw. In any other circumstance, he knew that he would have agreed or sympathized with David's anger and apparent lack of communication with Agent Brewster. But, in a way, Bucky drew a parallel between David and Agent Brewster, with his own mother and himself.

“He kept you out of that life as much as he could. Much like how I wanted to keep you out of what I do, David,” Bucky followed up after a short period of silence.

He paused for a moment, trying to come up with the best words as possible. “We... I...” he began. “There are some things in the world that people like your father, myself, and all who do this spying thing for a living, that we want to protect. To preserve, and to see the light and goodness not diminish. Your kindness, your good heart...”

Bucky fell silent, unable to continue or find the right words to express what it was like for him to do what he did. Saying that he loved the spy's life would not do anything for David, much less help the young man cope.

“You're a good man, Bucky,” David said after a few moments of silence. Bucky saw him glance down at his hands before looking back over at him. There was a faint but sad smile on his face.

“I don't know why you feel that you have to be alone, but Steve is very lucky to have a protector like you,” David continued after a moment's pause.

Bucky remained silent. It wasn't that he didn't think Emily would not have told David about her deduction all those weeks ago, it was just that he felt oddly relieved that David now knew. In hindsight, perhaps he should have told David that night, when the young man had confessed to liking him. But that was the past, and there was no going back to change it.

He wouldn't have anyways – it was a secret he had wanted to take to his grave.

“Steve doesn't know, does—” David began.

“He doesn't need to know—” Bucky interrupted. The two of them fell silent, as Bucky glanced out towards the London traffic. “He has Peggy, and he is happy. Happier than I've ever seen him be. That's enough for me.”

“Then he doesn't need to know,” David answered with finality, drawing Bucky's attention back onto him. Bucky saw him reach over and squeeze his hand before withdrawing.

David turned to leave, but before he did, he said, “I'm designing a new sniper rifle, and I'd like your inputs, if possible. After you capture Dr. Zola and return. The prototype should be built by then.”

Bucky considered the offer and words for a moment before nodding in agreement. “Sure thing,” he said.

David left without another word, and the ache that Bucky hadn't realized that gripped his heart seemed to lessen ever so slightly. David hadn't forgiven him. He was sure that they would never return to having as close of a friendship as they had in the past, but this was a start.

* * *

Occasionally, Morita or Falsworth would stop by and see how he was doing, but in general the Commandos left him alone. He would've asked for their inputs and suggestions, but there was also the old adage of: 'too many cooks in the kitchen'.

It was rare that Steve was allowed full strategic and tactical planning for a mission – even rarer that only Lorraine and Emily had remained behind. Neither contributed to the plan he was making, and only provided information if he asked for it.

In all the other times he had done something like this, Philips sat with him, advising him. Now, he was on his own; his commander too busy continuing to deal with the fallout of the Underground Incident and attack on the SSR Headquarters to advise him.

Though Steve would have rather have Peggy providing the reports, he knew that she had more important things to attend to. Namely the fact that as soon as their debrief had been done, she had received a message that stated that her brother would be deployed in the next few hours. She was currently spending that time with her brother, as God only knew where Michael was going, and when he would return.

At the present, Steve carefully looked at the topographical maps of the Alps. He traced and marked a couple of points before picking up the report that Lorraine had passed over to him. Rereading it, he placed it down and took two markers and placed those on the massive planning map.

There were two outposts that he had marked: one near Ariolo, and the other near Goldau. While there was a public railway, the information that both Lorraine and Emily provided hinted at a clandestine one within and around the mountains. After what the SSR had done, he was sure that Zola traveled between the two HYDRA outposts via the hidden route.

He knew that he was not the only one to have come to this conclusion. Lorraine had explicitly stated that it had been a combination of the intelligence organizations, and local resistance groups who had discovered it. Everyone else had what he had in terms of the intelligence about Zola's whereabouts.

Yet, the one major factor that had prevented all other organizations, including the US Army, from intercepting Zola was the weather. The Swiss Alps were treacherous this time of year, and that was what had protected Zola up until now.

Until Steve was willing to risk it all to capture and detain Zola.

The question that Steve faced at the moment was: how to execute the mission? They had winter gear, and they had climbing gear. Howard and his team had been quite busy preparing for their mission with different modifications that would enable them to use their weapons in the bitter cold.

But Steve knew that weapons would only do so much at that altitude and weather. They were going to have to intercept the train in the mountains, and in the train was sure to be guards of a sort to keep Zola safe. There were so many unconfirmed rumors that Zola had developed new weapons and armaments for HYDRA in the aftermath of the Ardennes, that Steve didn't know what to believe.

He glanced back at the topographical map. First, they would have to get onto the train, and the only way to do so was to rappel. To intercept the train depended on where the line was shot, how fast the train—

“Do either of you have a blank piece of paper?” Steve asked, looking up at both Emily and Lorraine.

“Here you go,” Emily chirped, sliding several sheets over to him.

“Thanks,” Steve stated, and began to jot down the equations he needed to figure out just how many of the Commandos would be able to make it onto the train.

* * *

It was getting colder as the wind picked up a little. Everyone who was of a right mind to not remain up here had already returned below. It was also getting near the time that he felt that Steve would have planned enough to start the briefing. Yet, despite it all, Bucky wanted to remain up here and enjoy the sounds of London's nighttime traffic – of normalcy – one last time.

He breathed in deeply, letting the cold January air fill him—

The door to the rooftop opened, and Bucky glanced over to see Peggy emerge. Before he could move or say a word to her fetching him for the briefing, an unexpected person followed her. Bucky saw her give Michael a little push towards him, while she waited by the closed door.

Slightly puzzled by her actions, and wondering why Michael was here, Bucky waited for him to approach. “I'm being shipped out in about an hour,” Michael began without preamble. “Said all of my farewells to Steve and the others, but...”

Bucky glanced out towards the horizon, as Michael fell silent. He didn't blame him for not wanting to say a farewell, after what had happened at the hospital. Michael had collapsed to his knees as soon as the illusion of Shostakov jumping out of the window had disappeared. Bucky had not been able to rouse him from his stupor at all, and had to leave the agent there when Philips had ordered him to leave.

“Are you...” he began, but could not finish his question, as he glanced over at Michael.

“Shostakov had his aide implant a command that made me unable to hurt him. It was buried so deep that I do not even know how they did it. I tried to shoot a photograph of him at the range, but I could not,” Michael stated. “I honestly do not know if he implanted other commands. My mind, my thoughts—”

“They are still your own,” Bucky interrupted, not wanting to go down that particular line of thought.

“That's what both Creighton and Brewster told me after I was examined from head to toe for the past two weeks,” Michael stated. “Seeds of doubt, they stated. It's what destroys agents, when they begin to doubt their own selves, and can't stop.”

“But you did stop,” Bucky stated.

“Because he couldn't have you,” Michael answered, glancing over at him. “I wasn't going to let him acquire a super-soldier, much less you in particular.”

Bucky briefly glanced down at his hands before looking back up. “Are they sending you to hunt him down? I heard that the Soviets launched a massive offensive into Krakow. He and his aide might've escaped to there.”

“St. Vith,” Michael answered, shaking his head slightly. “The boys are still fighting there, and they need intel behind the lines.”

“Swiss Alps for us,” he said after a moment. “Zola's there.”

He saw Michael blink in surprise, before saying, “So the SSR is really going to do it. They're willing to roll the hard six in such treacherous conditions?”

“It'll take some pressure off the boys at the front,” Bucky answered, “when we capture both Zola and the Red Skull.”

Michael's reaction to the news silently confirmed to him that all the other intelligence organizations had received the same information as the SSR had. It also told him that no one else wanted to send troops into the Swiss Alps in such dangerous conditions. Bucky didn't blame them at all for not wanting to do so; under normal circumstances, he would've agreed to stand down until conditions improved.

“Capture...” Michael began, looking slightly worried.

“Capture,” Bucky repeated before giving him a knowing look. “No one said what condition Zola had to be in though.”

Michael inclined his head slightly in agreement. “Be careful, and please come back safe.”

It was an odd thing to hear from Michael, especially with the sentimental tone behind it. Sure there had been a few sensual words said here and there whenever they slept together, or looks of concern exchanged when they had been working together in the field. But never the type of sentiment he heard now.

Bucky felt touched by the concern. As much as he wanted to say the same, he decided to let his actions speak instead. He leaned forward and tried to gently kiss Michael, but Michael took a half-step back.

As disappointed as he was that perhaps after everything – including his attempt to salvage what they had at the hotel – this was how they would end, he remained silent. He also took a half-step back, respecting Michael’s want to end their relationship.

“I owe you an explanation—” Michael began.

“You don't,” Bucky said, shaking his head.

“I want to take your acceptance for what I’ve done to you at face value. I want it to be true,” Michael stated. “But, I can’t.” The SOE agent’s voice broke on those words, as misery flitted across his face.

Bucky frowned. “You were a prisoner of HYDRA, of people who did despicable things—”

“Bucky, please,” Michael interrupted. “Please just let me say this. Who knows when we're going to see each other again?”

After a few moments of silence, he nodded for Michael to continue. The SOE agent took a deep breath, saying, “There are some things that I remember from the time they were trying to condition me to be a true double-agent. One of them was to find a way to intercept new weapons being developed. I was compelled to report about about the SSR, including you being assigned to watch me. This was shortly after the first meeting between the intelligence organizations and Shostakov.

“Shostakov didn't ask a lot of questions about you, but he did ask that I try to look at the mission reports after Estonia – specifically for information about what you've done. I thought they were just looking for clues as to how a super-soldier performed in the field, compared to others, and to Steve's skill set.

“It wasn't until after the second meeting, when you did not show up to translate, that they gave me further orders. They took an unusual amount of interest in you. I reported this to Creighton, who should have reported it to Brewster. I don't know what became of my report on Shostakov's interest in you, but I had no resistance in telling them about you after we returned from the Ardennes.”

“But you stopped,” Bucky repeated, as soon as Michael fell silent.

“I betrayed you,” Michael softly stated, glancing down while shaking his head. “I told them things about you—”

Bucky stepped in and embraced Michael, cutting his protest short. “You stopped yourself,” he repeated for a third time, his tone gentle and understanding.

He hoped that it would be enough to get through to the SOE agent, that lingering on what may have happened was not going to help him heal. Beyond Michael, he saw Peggy glancing over at them, with a look of happiness in her eyes. Michael must have told Peggy something of what he had just said, enough that Bucky could reasonably assume that Peggy tried to give her brother an earful.

It looked as if Peggy wanted to join them to give Michael another earful, or a 'I told you so', and thus, Bucky indulged her. He gestured with a slight tilt of his head, and she came over, smiling with relief.

As soon as she stopped before them, Bucky let Michael go. He drew back a step and saw anxiousness mixed with relief in the agent's eyes, before gently turning Michael around to face Peggy. “All yours, Pegs,” he said.

“Did I not say?” Peggy stated, clasping her brother's hands for a brief moment.

“I'm sorry for doubting you, Pegs,” Michael admitted, before stepping back so he could see both of them. To Bucky, Michael said, “And thank you, Bucky.”

Bucky silently nodded before glancing down for a moment, saying, “And I owe both of you an explanation as well. A small part of this mess is also my fault.”

“Bucky,” Peggy began, reaching out and placed a hand on his arm. “No,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “If this is about you following my brother because of where he was found—”

“It wasn’t my suspicion about Michael, Peggy,” Bucky stated, looking back up, as Peggy withdrew her hand. “Philips ordered me to do it. He gave me orders to make sure Michael was not a threat to the SSR, to Steve, and to you by whatever means necessary. I wasn’t supposed to tell you”

His eyes flickered over to Michael, and in a softer tone, he said, “Those orders… evolved… on my part.”

“I’m glad they did,” Michael answered, faintly smiling.

To her credit, Peggy caught the underlying meaning of Bucky’s words. There was still a slightly surprised look on her face to his admission of being ordered by Philips to do what he had done. Nevertheless, she asked, “What were the choices that Philips gave you after Estonia?”

“Stay and serve directly under his orders, or get transferred to Pacific Command,” Bucky answered. “Steve doesn’t know, and I would prefer it to stay that way.”

Peggy nodded in agreement, though Michael was giving him a slightly puzzled look for keeping Steve in the dark. “Then why tell me… why tell us now?” Peggy asked before Michael could question his rationale.

“The only thing keeping Philips in command is the fact that we’re so close to capturing Zola,” Bucky said.

Peggy nodded in agreement. “There’s rumors swirling outside that he’ll be forced to resign soon, even if Zola isn’t captured. But you and Lorraine should be well protected from reprisals.”

Bucky shrugged. He didn’t know if that was true or not, but he wasn’t going to put any betting money on that. “The command structure will change as we all know it. While we might get both Zola and Schmidt, I don’t know if the SSR might be facing any other threats after that—”

“You’re not staying,” Peggy softly interrupted in realization.

He nodded in silent agreement, before hearing Michael speak up, asking, “Why?”

Bucky looked over to see concern etched in Michael’s eyes, but could not hold his gaze on him. He tried to settle on Peggy, but found that he could not do that either. Shaking his head slightly, he finally settled his eyes on the dark horizon of London’s night. “Steve and me, we made a promise to each other. ‘To be there, with each other, until the end of the line’.”

He glanced down at his hands that were folded together, saying, “I’ll stay until we capture the Red Skull, but after that, I have to leave. I’m compromised, and the longer I remain, the more danger I’m putting you, Steve… everyone in.”

“Compromised?” Peggy questioned.

Michael’s gentle hand on his arm drew his gaze towards them. He could barely look them in the eyes, but he forced himself to. It would be up to Peggy and Michael to continue to protect Steve once he, Bucky, left. He was going to have to break his first and oldest of promises in order to continue to protect Steve from afar.

“There’s another war already being engaged, Peggy. The Red Skull and HYDRA may be the primary threat, but after they’re defeated, it’ll be the Soviets that we all need to watch out for. They’re hellbent on acquiring advanced weapons, because of what they lost during the revolution,” Bucky stated.

Just before the Commandos had left, Philips had called him into his office and handed him a rather thick book that had been delivered by secured post. Agent Brewster had been the one to write it, utilizing the simplest of concealment – invisible ink in between the book’s printed lines.

That book contained everything that Operation Midnight had initially been, up until just after the Barnes family had emigrated to America. It had also contained the request that he, Bucky, be allowed to read it.

“The agent that Brewster and his partner turned,” Michael began. Bucky focused his eyes on him as he saw realization dawn in the agent’s eyes.

“Was my mother. Vera Fyodorovna Romanova,” he quietly finished up, not letting Peggy’s puzzlement linger for long. Before either could say a word, he continued, saying, “and my father was Brewster’s partner. As a Guard Department agent, she worked in a similar capacity that I do for Philips. The Guard Department also employed a lot of Imperial Russia’s best minds to build their weapons. It was comparable to the SSR’s engineering teams. They had not only that damn ring, but also many other unusual items at their disposal.

“She left a trail of blood and destroyed that capacity as best as she could when the revolution swept in,” Bucky continued after a moment’s pause. “Last I heard, there were talks between Philips and Brewster of reactivating her, and having me join her to complete Operation Midnight. That includes the capture of Shostakov and his aide.”

It was a relief for him to say that, and oddly enough, his courage returned as he looked at both Michael and Peggy in their eyes. “The further away I, or even my mother can draw Soviet interests away from the SSR, the better. Knowing Steve, that punk will want to go with me, regardless of what I say, or what happens to the SSR after we defeat the Red Skull. Can’t have the stars-and-stripes following. He’s finally got his own life to live.”

It was arrogant of him to behave in this fashion, but he didn’t care. He knew that the two objected his trying to control Steve, but in this case, Bucky needed Peggy and Michael to keep Steve away from all of this. It was something that Steve did not need to get involved in.

Steve was the light of good, not the shadow of death.

“At least say ‘goodbye’ to him, Bucky,” Michael spoke up before Peggy could. There was a slight hint of anger in his tone. “Before you go, at least say it.”

There was an unspoken sense of regret that he heard in Michael’s tone, and Bucky understood why the agent was insistent on that. Michael had lost the one person he truly cared about at Dunkirk, and he was silently telling Bucky not to repeat his mistakes.

“He’ll understand, Bucky,” Peggy followed up, clasping her hands around his own for a brief moment. “You don’t have to tell him everything, but just enough.”

The door to the rooftop creaked open, drawing their attention to it. Steve emerged, waving at them and saying, “There you all are.”

“Is it time?” Bucky asked as soon as Steve joined them.

“Yeah,” Steve answered, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. “Plan is as ready as can be.”

Bucky couldn’t help but share a knowing glance with Peggy – Steve had forgotten his gloves yet again. He could reasonably assume that his best friend had most likely left them on top of the trunk at the end of their bunk bed in the barracks.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve protested slightly, having caught the knowing look between the two, as Bucky heard Michael chuckle.

“We’ll see the two of you on the first floor shortly,” Peggy stated, linking her arm with Steve and gently guided him away.

It was a full ten seconds after the door to the rooftop closed that Bucky heard Michael facetiously ask, “Prince?”

Bucky shook his head, giving him a look of absurdity. “No,” he said, knowing that Michael was referring to his mother’s maiden name in connection with the former Imperial family.

Michael made a humming noise, before Bucky suddenly felt soft, slightly warm lips envelope his own. Unlike the first time though, it didn’t end just as fast, and lingered as Michael slowly pulled away. Bucky was still rooted to the spot though, as he blinked once—twice.

“There’s more, for when you return,” Michael said, “my Winter Palace Prince.”

Despite the thrill running through him, Bucky managed to keep some of his composure. “Still not a prince,” he said, unable to come up with an adequate response or gentle retort. He was still spinning from the electrifying kiss, wondering just how Michael managed to feel that way with such a simple action.

“Return home safe, Bucky,” Michael said after a few seconds of silence. There was a seriousness and worry in his tone.

“You as well,” Bucky answered, sobering quickly. They both had missions to complete, and lingering up here on the rooftop was not going to erase the inevitable. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

* * *

Steve looked at the Commandos gathered around the planning table. Philips, Peggy, Lorraine, Emily, Howard, David, and a few others were sitting with them, but he wasn't paying attention to them. He was focused solely on his men, because it would be them, whom he counted on to carry out the plan – his plan.

The code-breakers and other personnel at the peripherals had fallen relatively silent. Everyone was waiting with baited breath to hear the plan to capture Zola – if it could be done. Steve was sure it could be done. He and the Howling Commandos had completed mission after mission deemed impossible to pull off, and this one was no different.

“Commandos,” Steve began. “We will attempt to intercept and capture Dr. Zola...”

~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We never really get to see in-depth Steve's strategic or tactical genius at work in the movies, only his leadership skills. That's why I devoted a small part of the chapter to Steve figuring out what the Commandos needed to do in order to successfully capture Zola. The final chapter is next, and it may not be what you expect.


	19. Endgame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Babylon 5, Season 4, Episode 20.
> 
> The first section of the chapter is copied (and edited) directly from [Captain America: A Million Shards Falling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661462/chapters/33871146), Memory Chapter: грузовой вагон.

**Chapter 19: Endgame**

_Late January, 1945, Swiss Alps_

Bucky was certain, as certain as the snow would never melt at this altitude, that he had just heard Steve openly lie for the first time. Yeah, sure it wouldn't be exactly like the Cyclone, but he knew that Steve always glared at the infernal ride after that first and only time he had ridden it, whenever they went to Coney Island.

Bucky was quite sure that being tasked to perform the rappel down to a fast moving train, with hundreds of feet drop below them, was also revenge for the times in which he tried to make Steve do some idiotically stupid stuff with him. But he would do anything Steve asked of him in a heartbeat, no matter how crazy it was.

Steve had his back, and he had Steve's back.

Nothing was going to stop them, not even the bitterly cold wind that nearly tried to blow them off the ledge the Commandos were situated at. It made the rappel line that they had shot across the ravine earlier swing this way and that, but Bucky squashed the fear from his mind. He heard Steve give the go order.

He snapped up his pulley that had a single hanger, bearer, and handbar carrier. As soon as Steve cleared the edge, zipping down to the train, he launched himself off of the cliff. The rush of the bitingly cold wind slapped at him, but the top of the train was already coming up in his vision.

He let go and landed on the train. He drove himself as close to the roof of the car he had landed on as possible to get his balance.

Bucky didn't need a lot of time to adjust, as he was already rising, following Steve forward. He ducked slightly as he raised his arm to block the whipping wind from his face. Jones was following closely behind; the only other Commando willing to go with Steve and do this crazy stunt of landing on a train in the middle of winter, in the Swiss Alps.

Jones continued forward as per the plan to stop the train from advancing any further along its Alps route. It had also been unsaid and unspoken that he knew Steve had deliberately made sure that he, Bucky, was a part of the team to secure Zola.

He was grateful to Steve for that, and as much as he wanted Zola to pay for what he had done to him, he knew that the chief scientist of HYDRA had valuable information. He would let the brass extract that information first before requesting that something be done to the scientist – to make Zola pay for the crimes he had committed.

Climbing down and into the opened door after Steve, Bucky's hackles were immediately raised as the door swished closed. It was too quiet and too empty to be a passenger train, much less a freight train – as evident in the stacked boxes situated on either side of the current car and down the center.

Wherever Zola was, this current situation that he and Steve had run into smelled of a trap. He just hoped that Jones was careful in his attempt to get to the engine room.

Raising his rifle, Bucky panned it around, checking their six as Steve took point, moving forward slowly towards the opening between the current car and the next. Steve's shield was leading the way, but Bucky could see the tight grip he had on his sidearm.

He glanced back again, the uneasy feeling in his stomach growing as he strained to try to hear anything unusual over the unusually muffled sounds of the train swiftly moving over the winding rails. Still, there was nothing, but just as he turned back to follow Steve through the gapway and to the next car, the door between the cars suddenly closed.

Bucky caught a glimpse of Steve's startled expression through the window on the door, but didn't have time to even process it as he heard the door on the other side of the car he was trapped in open. He immediately began firing short bursts from his rifle. Ducking to his right, he flinched as stinging hot ricochet from the bullets shot by the black-clad masked soldiers peppered the wall behind him.

He fired off another burst from his rifle, right into the center of the foremost HYDRA soldier who had been advancing to the right corridor, before ducking behind a bunch of crates. The soldier fell.

Bucky ejected the current cartridge and slammed in a new one. Readying the rifle, he peeked out, firing off another burst. The soldier was kept at bay only just, as he ducked back into cover for a moment, raising his left arm slightly to try to shield his face from the bullet sparks.

At another pause, he leaned out again, quicker and managed to sight down and fire another burst— _shit_ _!_

The cartridge had jammed. It must have been still too cold from their cliff side position or their approach on the roof – it didn't matter. Dropping the rifle, Bucky pulled out his pistol and fired off several shots – missing all of his target as the soldier turtled behind a stack of crates. He briefly ducked back into cover, just as he saw another soldier step through the other end of the connecting cars.

It was now or never. As Bucky gritted his teeth, he took the risk and stood up, firing more shots, moving laterally to his left. He got lucky, as his shots downed the soldier who had just stepped in.

Taking cover again behind another stack of crates, he waited until the burst of gunfire died, and popped back out again. Trading gunfire again, he silently cursed to himself as his pistol unexpectedly ran empty. It was one of the standard-issued ones given to infantrymen and he had taken both the wrong gun and cartridges from Howard's cache with him.

The lone soldier was advancing and it didn't sound like that that soldier was going to run out of bullets anytime soon. He could remain here, waiting for the inevitable, or he could—

The sound of the door on this end of the car swishing open caused him to look up in surprise. Steve had somehow managed to get it open, and didn't waste time as he tossed him his sidearm.

Bucky immediately grabbed it, swung up from where he had been taking cover, just as Steve charged forward, shield leading the way. Steve shoved into a long and large crate to the right, forcing the elusive and really annoyingly evasive HYDRA soldier to duck left to avoid being rammed.

Bucky fired once, downing the soldier with a head shot.

Silence once again, fell upon the cars, as he glanced over at Steve, with a ghost of a smile on his face in silent thanks. He was a little annoyed though, that Steve had intervened in his fight. It was an unspoken code between the two of them since childhood – neither would interfere in each other's fights unless it was absolutely necessary.

To be honest with himself though, he knew that he had intervened many times on behalf of Steve. Steve had been skinny and short back then – but that still didn't mean that Steve had to interfere now—

“I had him on the ropes,” he said, just as Steve came over to admire the handiwork of a perfect head shot with a pistol.

Before Steve could even open his mouth to attempt to retort, both of them heard the familiar rising whine of the unusual weapons that HYDRA had deployed, behind them. “Get down!” Steve shouted.

He saw Steve bring up his shield, just as the dual, glowing blue, cannon-like weapons fire. The shot reflected off of the vibranium shield was incredibly powerful – enough that he couldn't even shout Steve's name in horror.

Bucky was pushed back by the impact of the weapon against the shield, with his breath temporarily leaving him. Steve had slammed into the opposite wall, stunned and knocked out.

Even worse was that the deflection had ripped a hole on the right side of the car, peeling away the metal like a tin of cat food. Cold, blinding snow, and bitterly rough winds filled the car, but Bucky managed to recover quickly and scrambled up to pick up the dropped shield.

Holding the shield in his left arm, he fired rapidly at the HYDRA soldier. Either he was dizzier from the impact, or the bullets from the pistol were not piercing the unusual armor that the soldier had put on; he immediately turtled just as the whine reached its apex.

It felt like he had been punched in the gut as he felt himself flying, as he thought he heard Steve yell, “No!”

His trajectory though, was not towards the other end of the car, but out. Scrambling for purchase, Bucky managed to snag onto the wobbly and dangerously loose rail still clinging onto the peeled sidewall of the freight car. He grunted with the impact, his left arm shooting with pain from having the shield ripped away from him.

Bucky tried to edge back towards the safer, much more robust-looking railing, trying not to look down at just how perilously high he was, clinging to the edge. The wind whipped at him, mercilessly teasing him with the thought of gusting and blowing him and the precarious railing he held onto, into the ravine below. He determinedly looked up, refusing to look down, as he squinted and tried to see what was happening inside of the car.

It was useless though, but a moment later, he saw Steve emerge, clinging onto the edge of the ripped sidewall. “Bucky! Hang on!” he heard Steve shout.

He wanted to retort with 'what else am I going to do', but the ice-cold wind was already making him extremely parched, and the loose rail he clung onto ever more shaky. He tried to move, tried to edge up some more, but every single inch he tried to claim towards him made the rail even looser.

Steve tried to reach out towards him. Even though Bucky wanted to tell him not to, he knew that he needed the help. He couldn't get back in, couldn't reach towards the more stable railing that he saw Steve cling to, without help.

“Grab my hand!” Steve yelled, reaching out a little further.

_...with you until the end of the line... until the end of the line... end of the line... with you..._

The mantra droned in his mind, and Bucky knew that he had to take it – a leap of faith, of hope, of love, and of the longing to live, to make sure that he continued to be there to protect Steve. He had to be there, by Steve's side. He had to keep the promise he had made to himself, to make sure that the regret that he had burnt last November remained as so.

The railing was rickety, looser than a moment ago. His hands were frozen and slowly slipping; and the wind laughing its unbearably cold howls of laughter at him – he had to try.

He reached towards Steve's outstretched hand—

* * *

_Days later, at an airfield outside of London..._

“Is… is Rebecca Barnes here?”

Peggy looked up from where she was desperately trying to distract herself with something—anything. She still could not believe that Bucky was dead, and it seemed that the MPs numbly going about their work to secure Zola and ready him for transport could not believe it either. The only person who seemed not to be as affected as they all were, was Philips himself.

Peggy knew that it was a facade that her commander put up. Philips was trying to get all of them moving, to continue on and using work as a distraction until they could return to the safe confines of the underground base. Zola could still potentially be intercepted by others here in this airfield.

They all knew that capturing HYDRA’s top scientist would come with a price, but had not anticipated just how steep that price would be.

Steve had wanted to be left alone as soon as the Commandos had disembarked with their prisoner. At the present, Peggy saw them perk up and look at Steve, who had stepped away from the subdued Commandos. He had approached one of the crewmen servicing the aircraft that the Commandos had arrived in with their prisoner.

“Yes, sir,” the crewman answered, before pointing to a Spitfire that was on approach for landing. “That should be her, bringing the Spitfire in. Do you want to have the commander order her to report to here?”

“Yes, please,” Steve’s quiet answer rang in the stillness of the hangar.

Abandoning the pretense of even doing something, Peggy walked over and slipped her hands around Steve’s right hand. She felt him briefly untangle their hands before slipping his right arm across the back of her waist. Leaning into him, Peggy heard him breathe deeply, shuddering with grief in each breath he took.

Becca Barnes’ arrival at the hangar did not take long, as she rode in on a jeep being driven by another crewman working at the airfield. Her elation and bounce out of the vehicle was short-lived, as Peggy saw her stop five steps away from the jeep. Becca’s eyes were riveted on Steve—

“No,” Becca’s whispered denial echoed in hangar. “No, no, no—”

Becca was swaying, and Peggy could see that she was going to faint. Peggy immediately stepped out of the way, as Steve closed the distance to Bucky’s sister and embraced her tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Steve’s tearful apology punctuated the continued denials from Becca. “I’m so sorry, Becca. I couldn’t… I couldn’t—”

Mournful wails answered denial and apology, as Steve and Becca held onto each other, as if they were drowning. In a way, they were – Bucky had been both of their bedrocks. Peggy approached, but she knew she could not do a thing to help the two at the moment.

She could only watch, wait, and be there for Steve when the time came.

* * *

_Swiss Alps..._

Everything around and within him was on fire. Yet, there was the sense of icy cold, of a death-like chill that gripped his entire being, thoughts, and soul; and wouldn’t let go. If this was what hell felt like—

Bucky forced his eyes open as excruciating pain bloomed along his back and shot through his legs. He didn’t know what he was seeing— _oh God_ —

He was not in hell—

People dressed in brown winter uniforms with black папаха were dragging him—

He had reached out towards Steve’s outstretched hand—

He had fallen, screaming, blacking out when he hit—

His left _arm—_

_~~~_

Bucky’s next conscious thought was to see lights shining into his eyes. He was lying on something hard, but it was still damnably cold. Something was whirring beside his left ear, and—

There was a bone saw biting into what remained of his left arm—

_Fight!_

He had to get free—

“Sergeant Barnes...”

His eyes riveted to the eerily calm and all to pleased voice. Balding, rotund head, glasses perched on his nose, and a face that could be called clownish if life had had another fate in store.

Zola.

It couldn’t be Zola, could it? Had the mission—

~~~

Death’s cold grip was still within him the next time Bucky swam to wakefulness. This time though, he thoughts were not as muddled. Everything around and within him still felt like it was on fire, but he remembered – he knew.

He was someone’s prisoner again, and—

“< _This was all that they could find on short notice, sir._ >”

“< _Damn them, it will have to do. Prepare the site for grafting, and go find the doctor. He will know—_ >”

“< _He is awake, sir—_ >”

“< _Sedate him and get that arm on him as quick as you can. Make sure the cryo chamber is prepared—_ >”

Bucky opened his eyes for a single moment, and saw his captor quickly turn away from him, before several medical personnel surrounded him. “Shostakov...” he hoarsely whispered.

* * *

_May 10 th, 1945, SSR Headquarters..._

Peggy slowly closed the folder, before smoothing the invisible wrinkle lines that never existed on the cover of the folder. ‘Project Rebirth’ was the title of the folder, and within was Steve’s pre-serum pictures, along with all of his vitals – pre and post-serum. Mission notes of importance were also kept here. But what the folder didn’t contain were her treasured memories of the man she loved—

“Agent Carter?”

Drawn out of her mournful reverie, she looked over to see Emily and David. The two looked to be ready to head out for the remainder of the day. “Yes?” she asked.

“Colonel Philips is looking for you, ma’am,” Emily said. “He’s in his office.”

“Thank you,” she answered.

She returned her attention to the folder in her hands, but before she could put it away in the filing box, David spoke up, asking in a shaky tone, “Is...is there a file for… for Bucky?”

Peggy glanced over at the engineer, another ache running through her heart. She loved Steve, but she had not realized just how much she cared about Bucky in a sisterly way, until _that_ day.

For David, the young man had loved Bucky with his whole heart. Peggy knew about it by discreet observation and inference. Bucky’s death had broken the young man, and he had not been the same since that day.

Losing Steve had struck a further blow, and had caused the engineer to quit the SSR and employment with Howard. David returning here after VE Day, had only been to help Howard tie up a few things. Howard was due to fly back to America tomorrow, and permanently remain there.

“Yes,” she answered. “Would you like to see it?”

David shook his head before saying, “Thank you, but no. Farewell, Agent Carter. It has been a pleasure working with you.”

“And you as well, David,” she answered.

The two left, and Peggy resumed putting Steve’s file gently in the box. Dusting her hands, she blinked a few times to try to rid herself of the tears in her eyes without them falling. Taking a deep breath, she tried to make her composure as calm as possible, and headed to Philips’ office.

Knocking on his door, she heard him give permission for her to enter, and opened the door. She did not step in though, as she saw who else was exactly in her soon-to-be former commander’s office.

Fred – and in Fred’s hands was a familiar-looking envelope.

“No,” her voice cracked with her denial.

“I’m sorry, Peggy,” Fred solemnly stated.

Peggy managed to take two steps into the office, but could take no more, as she found purchase and grip on one of the chairs that sat facing Philips. Her heart was in a tight knot. Tears sprang into her eyes. She had to continue to stand – she didn’t want to collapse like she had the first time when she found out her brother—

Dead; he was dead—

“How?” she imploringly asked. “Where?”

Instead of answering her, Fred walked over and closed the door to Philips’ office. She felt him guide her into the chair that she had used to help her remain standing, before taking a seat himself. However, he did not hand the white envelope over to her yet.

“Prague,” Fred began. “On the 6th. He’s listed as missing in action, but we don’t know if we’ll ever find a body. What contacts we had there reported that he was last seen chasing someone through the streets, amid the Soviet forces fighting there.”

“No, no,” Peggy denied, not wanting to hear that Michael had potentially seen Shostakov within the Soviet forces in the city, and decided to give chase. It would be just like him to do something like that after everything he had been through—

Michael hadn’t even known that Bucky died.

Steve’s death was widely known – the comic publishers had published a special edition comic that depicted the death of Captain America. Captain America had died heroically within the pages as he had done in life. Of Bucky, nothing had been published about his death in the comics.

“I’m sorry Peggy,” Fred repeated, enveloping her clenched hands with his own, while slipping the envelope beneath her hands. “I’m so sorry for your losses.”

Peggy cried.

* * *

_Somewhere in the Soviet Union..._

“< _Your proposal for this reconditioning is a risky idea, Ivechenko. There is a great risk for failure if this does not work. And if it does not—_ >”

“< _The soldier will still have his uses, even if he does not retain his mental faculty—_ >”

The agent who had observed the SSR and their workings for years upon end at the behest of his predecessor, glared at the jovial, yet shrewd-looking man. Said man had already taken off the mysteriously powerful ring and placed it within a tiny alcove on the enormous apparatus they were standing next to.

Alexei Shostakov had tolerated Ivchenko as much as he could while they had been working together in London. Now though, within the motherland, he had the power, not Ivchenko, and his superiors were looking for answers.

The ink that contained the signature of the surrendered German forces had barely been dried, when Shostakov’s superiors had begun demanding to see results of what exactly they had risked to capture in the Swiss Alps. Shostakov needed to deliver the results, but he also knew that it would take time.

“< _The soldier is not livestock for breeding, Ivchenko._ >” Shostakov growled. “< _Our tests have determined as much. He is unable to pass on his seed. His blood is also too muddied to extract a formula._ >”

“< _No, he is not livestock._ >” Ivchenko agreed, smiling slightly. “< _He is a winter soldier of war. It will take time, but if you follow my precise recommendations on his conditioning, then perhaps—_ >”

“Colonel Shostakov, Dr. Ivchenko,” a woman spoke up from the far side of the room. Their attention was drawn away from the cryogenic tube that contained their valuable prisoner, and the enormous apparatus situated next to it.

“Ah, Dottie,” Ivchenko exclaimed in English. “Welcome home.”

A tall woman with striking features, blonde hair, and light eyes entered. She was dragging an unconscious, unkempt-looking man behind her. Even before she made it half-way to where Shostakov and Ivchenko were, she tossed the man towards the two.

“< _You’ll have to recondition him._ >” she stated in Russian. “< _He resisted more than anticipated, when I invoked the order to ‘return home’. I had to lead him on a chase throughout Prague in order for our countrymen to not kill him._ >”

“< _Then I’ll consider the Wolf Spider project to be closed and shuttered._ >” Shostakov stated, crouching down and picked up the man by his brown hair.

Mottled skin and bruises covered the man’s face. With the skill set that he knew ‘Dottie Underwood’ had, this man had put up a vicious fight. He knew that she would not have attempted to damage the man’s handsome face, unless she had not other choice. ‘Dottie Underwood’ understood that this man in his hand had been a counterpart to her in seductive arts.

He dropped the man back to the ground with a careless thud, and stood back up. “< _The first and only Wolf Spider is a failure._ >”

Glancing over at Ivchenko, he then gestured back towards the cryogenic chamber with their most prized prisoner, saying, “< _See to it, that your research and methodologies into conditioning our Winter Soldier are absolute._ > Nudging the unconscious man at their feet, Shostakov continued to say, “< _I do not want to see failure such as this one, when the time comes._ >”

“< _As you wish, Colonel._ >” Shostakov genially stated, before glancing down at the unconscious man. “< _Do you wish me to do anything about him?_ >”

“< _Recondition him as best as you can. Use him, if necessary, to experiment and refine the techniques that we will eventually use for our Winter Soldier._ >” Shostakov answered.

“< _Excellent._ >” Ivchenko stated.

* * *

_1947, somewhere in the Soviet Union..._

“... возвращение на родину, один, грузовой вагон.”

An eerie silence fell upon chamber as the machines that whined, hummed, and crackled loudly in his ears abruptly fell silent. His throat felt slightly hoarse, but he didn’t need to scream anymore. He had made it stop.

Fire coursed throughout his veins, but he instinctively knew that it would soon die. It had just been from the device to make him better than he was; ready to serve the Motherland—

“< _Soldier?_ >”

He saw the man approach him out of the corner of his eyes, but he had heard him thirty-seconds before that, closing a small red notebook. What the man wanted was not clear, at least from the inflection in the questionable tone. He had expected an absolute statement.

The man’s gesture for someone else to join him was not compliant, not—

“< _Do you recognize this man, soldier?_ >” the man holding the red notebook in one hand, asked. In the man’s other hand was a handsome-looking man with brown hair, held roughly by the sleeve of the drab coveralls he wore.

Not compliant.

Not protocol.

Not—

_Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind—_

Not supposed to be here.

Not—could not escape—the coverall-wearing man was… crying...

Betrayed.

_He_ had openly warned.

Not compelled—brainwashed.

Turned.

_Michael_.

“< _Soldier?_ >”

Not protocol.

“< _Ready to comply._ >” the Winter Soldier stated.

~*~*~*~

FINI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Michael ultimately betrayed (through no fault of his own) Bucky, and reported to Shostakov and Ivchenko about the exact whereabouts of the Howling Commandos during the mission to capture Zola. It was an embedded command deep within him (similar to the telepathically implanted command Garibaldi had in Babylon 5 to betray Sheridan). It didn’t activate until Shostakov made it activate in the hospital via key words. In essence Michael’s brainwashing by Ivchenko was a test bed for the eventual conditioning of the Winter Soldier.
> 
> And that’s it for the story. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have a few final notes (more informational than anything else) to mention:
> 
> This fic was primarily written because I was trying to figure out how exactly the Soviets knew where Bucky was, after he fell from the train. It was also partially written because I loved the Agent Carter S2 E4 episode with both Peggy and Whitney Frost's backstories – and wanted to explore/expand on Peggy's backstory (and people in her backstory).
> 
> The Wolf Spider program is from the comics, and is basically a direct counterpart to the Black Widow program. I kind of co-opted it for the purposes of this fic to imply that both the Black Widow and Wolf Spider programs were incepted during WW1 and WW2, respectively. The Black Widow program (prototype) via Bucky’s mother (and her successors, including Dottie Underwood), and the Wolf Spider program via Michael.
> 
> It’s kind of between the lines, but Shostakov originally had wanted Michael to seduce Lorraine, with the thinking that Lorraine would be a gold mine of SSR secrets. What he did not know (or initially anticipate) was that Michael’s preferences ran in the opposite direction – thus seducing Bucky, instead of Lorraine. It’s implied that after Michael began to report in, Shostakov changed his focus to acquiring a super-soldier (either Steve or Bucky, he didn’t care) for the Soviet Union.
> 
> I had an additional fate for Michael, but couldn’t ultimately work it into the story: Michael was supposed to have been reconditioned in a similar manner to Bucky, and then placed on the most elite HYDRA/Soviet Union strike team. This particular team was also the one that Bucky mentions in CA:CW, with Michael ultimately being turned into a Winter Soldier. He was also supposed to have his face re-grafted somewhere during that time, which is why Steve and Bucky wouldn’t have recognized him in the silo.
> 
> Thanks for reading, leaving kudos, and comments. I hope to see you in the next fic!


End file.
